


There but for the grace of God, go I

by Leia_Naberrie



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dark Barry Allen, Journalist Iris West, Major Original Character Death, Minor Eddie Thawne/Iris West, Multi, Wally West is The Flash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leia_Naberrie/pseuds/Leia_Naberrie
Summary: In one of infinite Earths, Francine West never became a drug addict and became a renown writer. That one singular difference altered the course of the lives of her husband, Joe, her children, Iris and Wally, and one young man, Barry Allen. Set in the season 1 timeline. Featuring: Dark Barry, the non-canon death of a major character from the start of the story and the possible death of another major character.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first foray into The Flash/Westallen fandom & fanfiction. This plot bunny bit and bit and refused to let go. Hopefully, I can wrap this up in 12 chapters or less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the start of this chapter, Iris and Barry are 12, Wally is 7.

_Sometimes terrible things happen to us when we're children._

_Things that can define who we become, whether we want them to or not._

_Some of us become stronger._

_The people who took me in helped me heal and move past everything that happened._

_They're responsible for who I've become today._

\----Earth-1 Barry Allen.

* * *

Years later, Iris would forget how she first heard the news. Where she was. What she was doing. She couldn’t even remember if her mother had been home that time or was doing one of her many tours across the world.

What she did remember, was sitting at the top of the steps, waiting for Barry to come home.  Wally had wanted to wait, too, but he had fallen asleep and Iris had walked him to his bed.

She remembered being scared.

The door opened and she got to her feet.

Her father was still in uniform, and he looked more tired than Iris could remember, even more tired than he had last Christmas when her mom called at the last minute to say she couldn’t make it home after all.

Barry looked – blank. Completely, utterly blank. No expression of pain or fear or sorrow on his face. Barry’s face, which was always so _open_ , who could never hide what he felt because he had never learnt, never needed to learn, how to do so – was now utterly, completely empty.

It had frightened Iris and, as it tended to do in her, even as far back as when she was a child, that fear had made her protective instincts rise up sharply.

She had stretched out her hand without hesitation. “Come on, Barry.”

Barry had blinked tired eyes up at her. “Iris, he didn’t do it,” he said quietly, his voice flatter and wearier than she ever remembered it being, not even all the times that Tony had cornered him and hurt him. “My dad didn’t hurt my mom.”

He sounded, not just exhausted, but hopeless, as if he didn’t expect her to believe him.

“I believe you, Barry,” she said firmly, truthfully.

She had believed him. Now, of course, she knew better.

And for the first time since he stepped into her house, expression creeped into his face. The tiredness in his eyes, that had made him look older than he was that morning, seeped out and now they shone bright with unshed tears.

Tears of hope.

He took her hand and she squeezed his tightly.

Side by side, they walked up the steps, her father watching them from below.

  

* * *

A few months later, Francine West filed for divorce. A brief custody battle ended with the children being time-shared between Central City and London where Francine had relocated. School periods with their mother; and the holidays with their father. Francine had made a mild offer to keep Barry Allen with her children but the terms of his foster-ship required him to remain in the country.

The day that Iris was supposed to leave with her mother and brother to their new home across the Atlantic, she ran away with Barry. It took a full day, and a search party and Francine had to furiously reschedule flights and cancel tour bookings – before they were found, on a bus half-way out of the state.

“Iris,” her father said, his voice thick with sorrow.

The two children were crying. “Why can’t Barry come with us?” Iris demanded, clinging on to her friend.

Joe shrugged helplessly, looking from one miserable child to another.

Francine tapped her heels impatiently from where she waited by her sleek car – on Joe’s insistence. “You spoil her,” she had snapped. “All of them. You give them too much leeway. London will be good for Iris.”

Joe had been too tired to argue.

He worried about his children. Despite their own differences, he knew that Francine _wanted_ to be a good mother, and with her successful career, she could definitely afford a better life for them than he ever could. But he didn’t believe that she could ever be there for them emotionally. And there was Barry, too. Their family – _Iris_ especially – had been the last stabilizing influence on the boy’s life. And now that was going to be ripped from him, too.

Joe hadn’t wanted to tear their family apart with a drawn-out custody battle. But the next years, he would constantly wonder and worry if he shouldn’t have fought harder.

“Please don’t forget me!” Barry cried as he watched Iris enter the backseat of her mother’s car where Wally was already waiting. “Please!”

“I won’t!” Iris swore. “I promise! I’ll call. I’ll write. I won’t forget you.”

He stood beside Joe, watching with his chest heaving until the car disappeared down the road. Then the heavy-hearted man, and the last child left to him entered their quiet, empty house.

  

* * *

Francine was going to be in Australia during Christmas and it was such a great opportunity for the children. Surely, Joe didn’t expect them to miss it?

He had asked Iris and Wally and Wally had been enthusiastic about seeing kangaroos. Iris had been more reserved – she had become increasingly reserved over the months – but she hadn’t been particularly keen on returning to Central City.

After the phone call, Joe had turned to see Barry standing behind him, his hands deep in his pockets.

“They’re not coming, are they?” he asked, his voice expressionless.

Joe shrugged helplessly. “There’s still Winter break. Iris’s boarding house gets a week’s holiday then.”

Barry shrugged. “She’ll find something better to do.”

Joe winced. The daughter he remembered, the one he raised, was a kind, affectionate person. He hadn’t been surprised that she had immersed herself in her new life, made new friends. But he felt, for Barry’s sake, a stab of disappointment that she had so easily broken all her promises to remember her old best friend. The frequent calls had ended after the first month and when he had asked Barry, the boy reluctantly told him that apart from the occasional group email, his friend rarely wrote him.

Barry’s mouth twisted in an increasingly familiar bitter smirk and trudged to his room.

The house was very quiet.

* * *

The summer couldn’t have come soon enough and Joe was almost bubbling with excitement as he waited in the airport. He had driven all the way, despite Francine’s protests. She had tried to pull another one – another tour, another ‘great opportunity for the kids’ but Joe had put his foot down.

He hadn’t seen his kids in a year!

He glanced beside him at the boy who stood beside him. The detective wasn't sure if the boy had completely worked through the resentment that had festered in him those first few weeks of his new life with the Wests. Until he saw Barry by the front door, scuffing his feet against the carpet, he hadn’t been sure the boy would come. Dressed in jeans, tee and leather jacket – and how did little Barry get so tall overnight? – he was the picture of aloofness. As the summer approached, he acted completely disinterested in the possible arrival of his old friend.

But Joe was a detective, and he didn’t miss seeing the tension in the boy’s jaw, the sharp way his eyes kept flitting over the passengers that were walking through the arrival area. The boy was struggling between hope and disappointment and it hurt Joe to watch.

A small crowd parted, and they were there. Francine, looking elegant and beautiful in a cream sundress and even now, after everything, Joe felt a pang watching her approach. Wally, still small and shy-looking but his sweet face creasing into a face-splitting grin as he spotted his father and broke into a run.

“Dad! Bear!”

“Wally!”

He ran into Joe’s arms in a running jump and Joe clung to his boy, hugging him gratefully. He had barely got a good fill, before Wally wiggled out and hugged Barry, too. “Bear!”

Something remarkable and rare – a smile – threatened to break across his face. “Walls!” Then the smile wavered, and vanished, as Francine reached them, and he caught sight of the girl standing behind her mother.

At first, Joe didn’t see any change in his Iris. She seemed to have barely grown, her feet still kicking his knees when he lifted her into a quiet hug. Then he put her down, and looked at her and noticed that her curls had been replaced by a sleeker, flatter style that made her look older.

That’s how she looked. Older. She might not have grown taller like Barry but her face was narrower, her tomboyish outfits of dungarees and shorts replaced by a short mini-dress Joe didn’t entirely approve of. Her eyes were still lively, but with a reserve that tightened Joe’s heart.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said softly.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, smiling – and there was his girl. Her eyes might be more shadowed than he remembered, but the kindness and sweetness still shone through.

“H…hi, I-Iris,” said a small voice to Joe’s right.

Father and daughter turned to look at Barry. He was staring at her with his heart on his face, every trace of aloofness wiped clean, and it was so _painfully obvious_ that Joe’s heart hurt for the boy.

He looked down at Iris, who for a moment, just stared at her once-best friend and Joe said a mental prayer for the sake of the young boy that had become a second son to him.

_Please be kind, Iris, please be kind._

Iris smiled sweetly. “Hi, Barry. You’re taller now.”

The boy flushed so thoroughly, his face glowed. He straightened up. “Yeah. S… so are you.”

“Not really,” she retorted.

It didn’t seem possible, but Barry blushed even harder. “Well… not much but…”

He was saved by, of all people, Francine as she turned to Joe sharply. “Hello, Joe. Thanks for meeting us. You didn’t need to. The hotel could easily have arranged a limo service-”

Joe started. “The what?” he asked quietly.

Francine rolled her eyes. “Hotel? You can’t expect us – expect _me_ – to live in your house, can you, Joe?”

“But the kids are staying with me.”

“The hotel has a pool.”

Joe felt his temper rising. She would do this, won’t she? Pull this stunt on him.

“I haven’t seen my kids all year,” he said, trying to keep his voice down but knowing there was no way he could shield the three pairs of curious ears from this conversation. “I want them with me. Those were the terms.”

Francine rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Joe. You can stay, too. Barry, even,” she added almost as an afterthought.

The boy flinched. Joe felt his ire rise, more for the boy’s sake than his own. “No, Francine.”

The quarrel, seconds from turning nasty, was dissipated by Iris’s quiet voice. “I want to stay with Daddy, Mom. We can come visit you at the hotel every afternoon.”

Francine looked ready to push it further, but she checked herself.

The summer was off to a glorious start.

* * *

The summer ended with a harrowing finish.

The party invite from Patty Spivot had boded no good. Iris had never liked the snobbish wannabe Queen Bee, and had spurned all her previous attempts to be friends. She knew that if not for her famous mother, Patty would never have looked twice in her direction. And now, a year in Europe had made Iris even more glamorous and attention-grabby and Patty wanted to bask in it.

Iris would rather have spent time with Barry but her old friend had… changed… over the past year. There were times when he acted like old Barry – simple, sweet, nerdish and uncomplicated. Then there were times when she could barely recognize him – his friends – his attitude towards her, bordering from aloof to downright hostile.

“You’re at the age where you tether,” she would later remember her father’s words, said over many terse dinners. “You and Barry. You’re clay in the potter’s hands. This is the time when you take your shapes, and once you set, it will be hard to change without breaking.” She remembered how his eyes would turn grave, and turn – more often than not – in Barry’s direction. “The potter’s hands take many forms – life, our parents – but the most important one is our own decisions.”

More often than not, Barry would push back his chair and walk out of the kitchen. To Iris’s shock, her father didn’t stop him.

“Do you hate my Dad?” she asked him the first and last time, she had confronted him right after.

Barry had turned sullen eyes to her.

Iris felt her stomach churn. “Do you think it’s his fault that your Dad was convicted?”

The trial had still been on when Iris had left, but she had followed it in London. She knew Henry had been found guilty. She had tried to call Barry to talk but after many failed attempts and time zone issues, she had only got her father who informed her sadly that Barry wasn’t in the mood to come to the phone.

“He didn’t believe me,” Barry muttered. “So what? No one else did.” He glared at her.

This was the time she was supposed to say, “I do. I believe you, Barry.”

Just like she had said to him, almost two years ago.

But a lot had changed in two years.

She said nothing.

His eyes seemed to burn holes into her face. “When are you going?” 

She recoiled at the furious spite in the question. “What?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Did London make you stupid? Going back to London and your fancy boarding school with your fancy friends and your fancy accent?” 

“What the heck is wrong with you?!” 

He turned to his desk, to the gadget he was fiddling with. He was always fiddling with something.

“Get out.” 

“Barry!” 

“Are you deaf? I said–” 

She slammed the door after her.

Iris hadn’t particularly wanted to go to Patty’s party. But it was either that or spend the evening with a sullen Barry. Wally was having a sleepover at one of his old friend’s – he had slipped into his old life as easily as a sugar cube in water.

Iris had definitely not wanted to go to the party with Barry. But her father had insisted. If she didn’t take Barry along, she couldn’t go. Perhaps he had seen the rift between the two friends and was trying to fix it.

He shouldn’t have.

It cost him his life.

* * *

Who knew that Spin the Bottle could have such deadly consequences?

* * *

It took years of therapy before Iris could eventually come to terms with her feelings of guilt. She hadn’t caused her father’s accident. Hadn’t even really been part of the plot to humiliate Barry at the party – the plot that had sent the boy running into the darkness, and missing for days. Which, in turn, sent Joe West searching for the boy and encountering that drunken driver on the slippery road.

Barry was still missing at the time that Joe’s body was being lowered into the ground. But years later, Iris would swear that she caught a glimpse of him at the funeral.

She was afraid he was going to try to approach her, try to talk to her. Tell her…

What?

_“I’m sorry”?_

_“This is your fault, you know…”?_

She was so grateful that the shadow she glimpsed through the crowd that had gathered to lower her father’s body into the ground, never materialized. Who knew what she would have told him?

_“You killed my father.”_

_“I hate you.”_

* * *

The summer ended and Barry was still missing.

He was found eventually. Remanded into foster care. Escaped. Ferreted a bitter existence for himself before he eventually ended up in the care of one Harrison Wells, who was really Eobard Thawne, a man from the future.

Of course, Iris didn't know any of this.

It would be many, many years before Iris West saw Barry Allen again and when she did, he was completely unrecognisable.

* * *

_I'm one of the lucky ones._

_Not everyone gets that kind of support._

_Without it, I don't know where I could have ended up._

_Or what I could have become._

\----Earth-1 Barry Allen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter, Iris and Barry are 13, Wally is 8.


	2. (Red) Lightning Strikes Thrice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Iris West met the scarlet speedster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Iris is 23, Wally is 18, Jessie is a few months shy of her 18th birthday.

_ Ten Years Later _

The first time Iris met the Scarlet Speedster, he was saving her from Tony “Girder” Woodward.

It was a day full of firsts. The first time she met another metahuman besides the Streak. The first time she met another _speedster_ besides the Streak.

“Why do you write about that Streak?” Tony had demanded, as he pulled her deeper and deeper through the halls of their former elementary school.

What did he want with her? Iris wondered, struggling not to panic. It had been so long ago, it had been a shock that he remembered her. She herself had barely recognized him when he strolled into Jitters, asking her what she knew about the Streak, before whisking her away. When he told her that he ‘liked’ her in school, she had cringed but had taken advantage of that to sound the alarm. Now, he was furious at being tricked, furious at her ‘preference’ for the Streak, furious all around.

“People think he’s a hero,” Iris snapped, refusing to be intimidated. _He’ll come for me. Jessie’s listening to police scanners, tracking my phone as we speak. It’s only a matter of time…_

“Well, he’s dead!” Tony spat and Iris’s heart stopped. “Squashed like a little bug. By me.”

Her heart had started pounding. “No.”

Tony smirked, his face twisting macabrely.

_Wally!_

Iris didn’t know when she decided to do it. One moment, she was staring up at Tony’s face, imagining smashing it against the glass display cases of his past glory, as images of her _baby brother’s_ broken body flashed past her eyes. The next moment, she had sprung herself at him, her legs around his back, her fingers locking around his neck as she drove him into the glass.

It shattered under his weight, six feet plus of bone, muscle and metal skin. Iris fell hard on top of his unyielding frame, and pain ricocheted through her body. She was still dazed, when a painful grip clenched around her shoulders and slammed her against the wall.

“I really liked you, Iris,” Tony snarled into her face, and she snarled back, refusing to cower, refusing to show any fear even as his grip on her turned crushing. “But you picked the fight with the wrong guy –”

“Why don’t _you_ pick on someone your own size?”

Her heart jumped as she looked over Tony’s shoulder. The voice had echoed in exactly the same way that Wally’s did to hold his disguise; and for a split-second, standing in the darkened corridor, seeing a tall, confident frame, she felt a thrill of relief…

…that quickly flitted away as she realized that the person there was a stranger. That was a red suit, not yellow. White skin under the half-mask, not brown. A lanky body, not a sturdy, well-built.

Tears of disappointment filled her eyes as Tony whirled to face the newcomer, her body still tight in his hold. The stranger’s gaze was not on Tony, but on her. Red lightning sparked in his eyes.

Iris’s breath caught. Another speedster?

“Who the hell are you?” Tony roared.

“Someone who’s here to teach you a lesson. Let the girl go.”

Tony glanced at her. “I’d rather she watch as I beat another of you freaks into a pulp.” He smirked. “Show her who’s the Big Man on Campus!” He dropped her, letting her fall painfully to the ground, her ankle twisting. She bit back a shriek.

She could _feel_ the stranger’s anger. He swung his neck to the side and back, a strangely menacing gesture. Then he moved.

He was – possibly – even faster than Wally. One moment he was at the door. The next moment, he was before her, his hands closing over her upper arms. The next moment, they were outside, in the car park and she was behind the wheel of Tony’s truck.

“Drive,” the speedster said, in that same echoing voice. Vibrating the vocal cords, as Wally had explained.

“Who are you?” Iris breathed.

He answered by shoving Tony’s keys in her hand and turning away.

Without thinking, Iris reached out to grasp him – and gasped as a charge of electricity ricocheted from his suit to her fingers. He whirled at her, and Iris recoiled. He was vibrating his face, the same way Wally did – but she could still see the fury in his dark green eyes.

“P…please…” She stammered. “My bro… the Streak… Tony said he had…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “… hurt him. Please… You have to find him …”

For a moment, he said nothing. The two of them just stared at each other, locked in a gaze that Iris couldn’t bring herself to break.

Then she heard a sound like distant thunder, and they both looked away to the horrible sight of Tony Woodward, encased in metal, stamping his way across the lot.

The speedster looked at her. Even though his face was a blur, she could see the way his mouth twisted as he spat out the words to her:

“Get out.”

Then he was across the field like a streak of red lightning.

Iris turned the key, ignored the painful scream in her ankle and drove.

* * *

Tony hadn’t killed the Streak that day. Or any other day.

Wally, the Streak, the Golden Speedster and Iris’s baby brother. _He_ had saved Wally.

A whirl of red lightning had deposited him on their living room couch and Iris and Jessie who had been huddled in front of their makeshift control room, watching for updates from the police and the media, had let out screeches of relief and rushed to him.

He was beaten badly, bones in his legs crushed, but…

“He’ll live. Rapid healing saved him or he’d be dead. Keep him off the streets for a day or two, and he’ll be fine.”

The Scarlet Speedster stood by the door, his face and body half-turned as if ready to leave.

“Thank you,” Iris said, for all their sakes’. Jessie was too busy ministering to Wally to even acknowledge the reason why he had been found in the first place.

The Speedster’s hand touched the door knob. Later, Iris would think about how slow he had been to leave, to move. Now, she was just afraid he would before she could finish thanking him.

“Please… you found the Streak…” She laughed, realizing how stupid it was to keep pretending otherwise. “You found my brother. How can I…” She hesitated, when he waited, still not looking at her fully.

Even though his head was vibrating, she could still make out a blurry profile. Sharp jaw, cheekbones, nose.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry and aching.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

He looked at her then, and his green eyes crackled with electricity.

Then he was gone, leaving her stunned in her doorway. 

* * *

The second time, Iris met the Scarlet Speedster, he told her to change the name of her blog.

“What’s wrong with the Streak?” she retorted, defensively. Wally had complained too, but since he and Jessie hadn’t come up with any better ideas, Iris was sticking to it.

They were at the roof of Jitters. It had been three weeks since the Tony Woodward incident. Iris was compiling her own private database of metahumans and finding a pattern and she had asked him to meet her there.

She hadn’t expected him to. Wasn’t even sure he read her blog. Couldn’t be certain he’d see through her cryptic message. But right at the dot, she had been shutting down her laptop at Jitters, when she was whisked up to the roof.

Her heart was still racing a little.

“It lacks pizzazz,” he retorted.

So far, most of the metahumans were neatly divided into three groups – the bad ones, who were the unfortunate majority; the neutral ones, people who just wanted to live their lives in peace, whom Iris and Wally and Jessie, their Brother/Sister/Girlfriend crime-fighting unit tried to do their best to help them integrate as much as possible into society. Then there were the heroes – but so far, Iris only knew one.

The Scarlet speedster had saved her from Tony Woodward but after that … Radio silence. She hadn’t heard one glimpse or report of him doing good, being a hero, saving a life, making a difference like Wally did every-day. All that power and he clearly had no use for it.

“I read your article,” he said now, as he walked gingerly along the ledge of the roof, balancing between the floor and a drop of fifty feet like if he was walking on bars in a playground. Iris couldn’t decide if he was trying to scare her or impress her. “Do I detect a note of disapproval, Ms West?”

Iris folded her arms defiantly. “You know what my brother is. What he does. Putting himself out there. Every single day. You could be helping him. Instead you’re just sitting on the sidelines, watching someone else be the hero.”

The lightning that struck her brother as that particle accelerator exploded her changed his life, given him a purpose. Adrift and undecided, caught between his mother in London and his sister who had moved back to Central City the moment she could, caught between his genius and his love for speed – Wally had been at a crossroads. The lightning had saved her brother’s life.  

And so had the Scarlet Speedster.

“I saved him from Tony Woodward, didn’t I? Did you really think that Tony just stopped short of beating him to death?”

Iris felt the blood leach from her face. Wally had told her that he had been knocked out in the middle of the brawl with Tony. He had imagined, and the other two had agreed, that Tony had assumed that Wally had died. She didn’t know that this man had literally saved her brother’s life.

“I…”

“Save it,” he snapped and suddenly he was behind her, standing at the far side of the roof. “What did you call me for?”

She fumbled for her phone, unnerved at the sudden irritation in his voice. “I… I’ve been doing some digging and I found out that… every meta-human incident was reported after the Particle Acceleration explosion at STAR Labs. Every. Single. One. There is no record of an incident before that. I believe that the explosion released something into the atmosphere that caused people to develop these powers.” Jessie and Wally had more scientific explanations for this, but Iris believed – hoped – that she was explaining it well enough.

He was silent for a long time, standing still and watching her in the shadows, making her even more nervous.

“I mean… It can’t be coincidence…”

“It was an accident.”

“That’s what Dr. Wells claims but we believe that he did this on purpose. Then there’ve been meta-humans that have gone missing. We built a kind of tracker/suppresser for the CCPD to use on meta-humans that the Streak apprehended–”

He scoffed.

“–but a few days’s ago, there was a breakout and the trackers had been disabled. The only lab we know that could develop that tech is STAR Labs.” So Jessie had said and Jessie was Harrison Wells’s estranged daughter an, would know.

“ _Your_ tech was defective. A smart meta human probably figured it out, and taught his friends.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Did he also order the parts to disable it from CCPD Amazon.com, and assemble it in his cell? Did he then vanish himself and the rest of those meta humans from the surface of the earth? We’ve been listening, watching for any trace of these guys and they’ve just disappeared. Either they all decided to turn a new leaf at exactly the same time or…”

A flash of movement, and he was on the other side of the roof. “Where do I come into all this?” He sounded amused.

“Wa– The Streak is fast, but even he can’t be in two places at once. His hands are already full with this cop killer.” It wasn’t really what they should have been focused on. The deaths seemed to have been done by a human, not a meta, and the police were obviously invested in solving the spree of murders.

But Doyle and Watson, the two cops killed so far had all been members of their late father’s former precinct, all worked together with him in the past. The Wests were taking this personally.

He flashed again, and she had to turn around before she found him. She heaved a sigh of impatience. “We need someone – like the Streak – to help us investigate Wells. Get into STAR Labs, and see if he’s keeping other metas prisoners or worse. See what’s the real story behind the particle accelerator explosion.”

He folded his arms. “Didn’t Wells take care of your brother for months after the accident? Monitor him? Keep him alive when the hospitals couldn’t take care of him anymore? Now you want to tar him with feathers for clicks on your blog?”

Iris felt her face burn. “He took care of my brother after Wally was injured from _his_ mistake,” she snapped.

“I don’t remember anyone making him do that. He could have left Wally to rot.”

Iris clenched her fists, then whirled to walk away.

He stood before her, so close and so suddenly, that she took a step back.

“You’re wrong about Dr. Wells,” he warned.

Her heart was racing again. “We’ll see.” For a moment, they just stared each other down. Iris lifted her chin. “Let me pass.”

He took a step forward, and Iris wanted to stand her ground, really, but she couldn’t help it. She stepped back. He took another step, then another, backing her until the cold dwarf wall hit her back.

And even then, he didn’t stop moving, suddenly close enough to put both arms on either side of her, locking her in.

He was so tall (and she was so short, but really, there was no need to rub that in), that even in heels, she had to crane her neck up painfully to look him in the face. This close, she could make out that his green eyes had gone impossibly dark, and the expression on what she could see of his face defied description. 

“Let me go,” she whispered hoarsely. She could feel the heat radiating off his suit. If he was anything like her brother, his heart was galloping at an impossible speed. She felt her palm itch, tempted to press her hand against his chest and check – and then she wandered if she was going crazy.

She told herself that it was fear that made her stand there, looking up at him, with her heart racing.

His jaw moved, like if he was swallowing, and he leaned closer. Despite herself, Iris’s eyes fell to his lips. They were thin, but not too thin, fleshy and pink. The right size for –

She let out a mental shriek to halt her thoughts. “Are you going to throw me off-?” she asked, frantically.

Was it her imagination or was he staring at her mouth?

“Not today,” he said softly, as softly as his vibrating chords could allow. “Word of advice to you: If you keep writing your blog, you’re going to keep attracting bad meta-humans to yourself. I won’t always be there when your brother gets a beating.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Iris managed.

This was a good time for him to leave, she imagined. But he didn’t leave. His gaze was definitely flickering from her eyes to her mouth. If he tried to kiss her, she would …

She could see his throat working, as he swallowed.

…Iris realized with a panic that she had no idea what she would do.

“The Flash,” he said finally.

“What?” she asked, completely taken aback at the non-sequitur.

“You’re thinking of names, right? The Flash.” Then incongruously, he winked. “Ask Wally. I’m sure he’ll like it.”

And in – a flash – he was gone. Leaving Iris dazed, and extremely flustered, against the rooftop wall.

* * *

The third time, Iris saw the Flash, it was days after he and the Streak – the Flash (although for some reason the media had taken to calling Wally Kid Flash, much to Wally’s ire and Jessie’s delight) – from Harrison Wells, who as it turned out, was evil.

Iris hadn’t been there with Wally when the fight had happened. It had taken them across the City, all the way to the shoreline, but she had watched the cameras with Jessie and she knew that if not for the Red Flash’s presence, her brother would have died.

There was still a legal mess about Harrison Wells to entangle.

(If he was Harrison Wells. But his tight-lipped assistants, Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow, would never reveal the truth).

Jessie had refused to claim her inheritance, much the same way that Harrison Wells’s mysterious protégé had rejected his stake.

He hadn’t been mysterious for long.

“Barry Allen?” Iris gasped as she read the name off Jessie’s copy of her father’s Last Will and Testament that had arrived by post that day.

Jessie’s eyebrows had shot into her hairline. “You knew him?”

“ _You_ did?” Wally retorted.

The three of them sat on their couch, poring over the papers in front of them. Iris felt her head spinning as Jessie narrated a story that they were already familiar with – how her father, an already cold and distant man, had sent her off to boarding school barely weeks after the accident that had claimed her mother’s life, and nearly took his own. How he had ‘adopted’ this young protégé a few years after, keeping the boy close to him in a way that he apparently couldn’t bear to keep his own flesh and blood.

What the Wests had never known – because Jessie had never bothered to mention it – was the name of the protégé.

“Barry went everywhere with my father. All his travels across the country. He had tutors brought to him while he sent me from boarding school to boarding school,” Jessie bitched as she took a swig from Wally’s beer.

Iris let her have the one sip, then she confiscated the beer.  It was a waste of time. Jessie had a variety of fake IDs and could help herself to liquor anytime. But emancipated or not, she was still underage and Iris was the adult in this house.

“Did you ever meet him?” Wally asked.

“Once, a year after he’d been living with my Dad. I came to Central City when I got – ” She made a face – “suspended from St. Clare’s.”

Iris snorted. Jessie had changed schools the same way kids her age changed clothes. It was only until she landed in the same school that Wally was, that she had found her mooring.

Sometimes, Iris envied her brother and Jessie. So young, and yet they had found each other and they _knew_. There was no doubt.

Wally gave his soulmate a shove. “So how was he like?”

“Hot,” Jessie sniped and chuckled at Wally’s outraged expression. “If you like them, tall, dark and dangerous-looking. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder. I don’t know what his damage was, but every other night, there was a cop at the door, looking for him. I think he was in a motorcycle gang at the time. He kept his jerkass friends away from the house but I’d see them around, whenever I went into town.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t my type, Wally. I like my guys sweet and nice, not bitter and brutal.”  

She must have noticed the way the Wests had fallen silent, because she shoved Wally again. “What? Why are you so interested in my Dad’s creepy replacement kid?”

“We knew him,” Wally said quietly, avoiding Iris’s eyes. “He was Iris’s best friend…” He trailed off, quailing under her heavy gaze. Jessie looked from brother to sister with surprise. “It’s a long story.”

He told her what he could remember, which was surprisingly a lot considering how small he was when it had happened.

  
After a while, Iris drifted away, going to the table to pull out her laptop.

“Where is Barry Allen now?” Wally was asking Jessie.

“No idea,” Jessie said. “His lawyers said he’s out of the country, and won’t be coming back soon. They are completely representing him in all of this. He got a trust when he hit twenty-one from his parents so he’s independently wealthy.  Guess that’s why he doesn’t need my father’s money.”

“A trust?”

“From his parents when he turned twenty-one,” Iris answered, her voice quiet, as she stared at the information on the screen before her. “Henry Allen died in a prison fight a few months after his sentencing. Barry’s been an orphan almost since…”

She didn’t finish the sentence for Wally. She didn’t have to.

Almost since their own father died.

* * *

“Are you Barry Allen?”

Iris was going to ask the Red Flash, as she stood on the roof with her hands deep in her pocket, her left fingers wrapped around the tiny tranq gun. Jessie had built it. It should work on a speedster for about ten minutes. That was enough time for Wally to speed in, grab a comatose Red Flash / Barry Allen / Whoever he was – and speed out.

She had sent him a message. She still ran her blog, even though she had been working for CCPN for some weeks now, a job that came on the heels of exposing Harrison Wells. Although the terms of her contract meant that her blog was publicly affiliated with CCPN, she still had complete autonomy over it.

And over her meta-human database.

Which was another thing. Even if he wasn’t Barry Allen – although Iris seriously doubted that at this point in time – she needed to know his identity. He knew her brother’s, knew where they all lived and operated from. She had to even the playing field.

Jessie and Wally’s arguments rang in her head as she waited in the cold, moon-less night.

_“This is crazy, Iris.”_

_“He probably killed those cops, you know.”_

_“He’s dangerous.”_

She agreed with the last.  He was dangerous. She had seen the video of him killing Harrison Wells. Seen how he fought. She had called on a favor from a meta-human whose superpower was walking through walls, and found the sealed records of Barry Allen. Read up on a life that could easily have been the biography of an American Mob Lord – fights, drugs, juvie time – none of which had ceased after he ended up in the ‘care’ of Harrison Wells.

Iris shivered in the darkness. Barry Allen was dangerous. She knew that, didn’t deny that or delude herself about that. So was it hubris that made her so convinced that he won’t be a danger to _her_?

There was a whoosh, and her heart leaped. She spun around to see him, standing a few feet behind her.

“Came to gloat?”

His voice sounded heavier than usual. Broken even.

She wondered what kind of relationship he had had with Harrison Wells. If he felt the indifference that Jessie exuded – or claimed to exude – or if he had actually cared for the man. If the man had cared for him. If he had been taken care of, all those years after her father’s death had rendered him homeless.

“No,” she said softly.

He took a step nearer.

His face wasn’t vibrating. She could make out his features under his mask. The sharp jaw, the lines of his face. The sad green eyes.

Barry had had green eyes, too.

“Barry,” she said quietly. The word slipped out, unplanned, unchecked. Just seeped out of the heaviness in her heart.

Guilt. Confusion.

Sorrow. Bone-deep sorrow.

He recoiled as if she had struck him, spun on his heel –

“Please don’t–” She stretched out her hand, the tranq abandoned in her pocket.

For a moment, she thought he would flee, but instead he turned around slowly. His eyes were wide and wary.

“I’m not…” he started.

Despite the circumstances, the corner of her lip lifted. “A bit too late for that.”

He heaved a sigh. “You know who I am. What are you going to do about it?”

She swallowed. “Same thing you did about Wally. Nothing.”

Oh, if only it was that simple. 

 _“Bring up the cops, Iris,”_ Jessie hissed into her ear. _“Get him to confess.”_

Iris swallowed as she watched the man in front of her.

Barry. Barry Allen.

She had tried to find him years ago, back home in London. Then she had searched again, when they had moved to Central City after she got her college admission. But his records had ended after the second foster family, the rest of it was sealed, and Iris hadn’t the resource then, or the will to push further.

It had been over a decade, but she still remembered every detail of Patty Spivot’s party, and the the cruel joke that had sent Barry running into the night, that had ended with her father’s death. She was older now, more clear-headed, and her resentment and anger towards Barry had long since washed away…

… leaving only her own guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly now.

“For what?” he snapped back. “It was your Dad that died not mine.”

Iris flinched, struck by his cruelty.

He spread open his arms, embracing the world. “I’m rich. I’ve got powers. I’ve got everything I wanted. Looks to me, like you did me a favor by being such a spoiled little princess.”

Her hand stretched out to slap him before she could even think.

He caught it before she could even blink.

She struck out with the other hand, a rolling punch that hit him across his cheek. He grunted, more winded than pained, then he was moving – in a flash – and he grabbed her, spinning her so that her back was to his front, her arms trapped to her side with his arms around her like metal bands.

It happened to quickly for her to react, to even scream, or be frightened. The next moment, she felt long fingers curling around her ears, and her COMM link was ripped off. A hand slipped into her pocket and the tranq, and her phone clattered to the ground.

Iris screamed then, but her voice and breath were stolen from her as the Red Flash – _Barry_ – the hurled her up in his arms and took off at a run, leaping across the roof.

* * *

They finally stopped somewhere – where she had no idea. She was too dizzy to get her bearings. When he let her go, she stumbled into a heap on the ground, drawing her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them to stop shaking.

He paced before her. “What exactly was the plan, Iris after you tranqed me?”

“A confession,” she whispered, when she finally caught her breath.

“For killing Harrison Wells. You saw the video, it was self-defense.”

His voice was mocking, and she scoffed. To the general public, it would look like self defence. But Iris’s brother was a speedster. Barry Allen hadn’t had to kill Harrison Wells to win that fight. He had done it because he wanted to.

“A confession for Detectives Watson and Doyle.”

He stopped moving, frozen.

“They worked with my father on your father’s case. Their testimony convicted him.”

“They lied,” Barry growled. He was moving again, his motions jerky and angry. His voice was still vibrating. She wondered why he bothered. To intimidate her? He could have saved himself the effort. His wrap sheet was scary enough. “Joe really believed that my father killed my mother. I give him that. Everything he said was the truth – what he found when he arrived on the scene. But Doyle and Watson… they said things that couldn’t have happened, couldn’t have been real. They lied to get my father convicted.”

Iris clutched her knees and shivered. “You’re probably right.”

He stopped pacing, his body going rigid as he watched her with narrowed eyes. 

Iris nodded. “I read my Dad’s notes. He was… confused about their testimonies, too. And now with what we know about Harrison Wells…”

“He wasn’t Harrison Wells,” Barry snapped. “Harrison Wells died after the accident with his wife. The man that’s been posing as Harrison Wells was another speedster, called Eobard Thawne. He was the one who killed my mother.”

Even in her circumstances, Iris felt a wash of relief for Jessie’s sake. Relief tinged with regret. So Jessie had lost her father, as brutally as Barry, and Iris had lost their own. But at least, Harrison Wells hadn’t rejected his daughter the way she had imagined all these years, displaced her for Barry’s sake.

“Why did he take you in then? Protect you from the law? Leave everything to you?”

Barry told her. Explained to her, Eobard Thawne’s elaborate scheme involving time travel, and temporal mechanics and things that Iris could barely understand. She understood the important bits though – that Barry had been the man’s pawn in a larger game, molded into a duplicate of his monstrosity. The man had warped Barry.

And it wasn’t by chance or coincidence.

“Your father’s death… the accident…”

A cold hole opened in Iris’s stomach.

“It wasn’t an accident. Harrison – _Eobard Thawne_ – didn’t leave anything to chance.”

Iris felt tears spill down her cheeks.

Her poor Daddy. Her poor, poor Daddy.

And then Barry’s face was inches from her, her tears stopping abruptly as fear clutched at her chest. He saw it – she saw the way his face twisted bitterly under the half-mask as he raised his hand slowly towards her. Her heart was pounding loud enough to burst. She had seen a speedster kill a person this way – just with a raised hand…

But all he did was wipe her cheeks with his gloved thumb. When he was done, he left it on her skin, his hand cupping her face as he stared into her eyes.

Iris’s heart started pounding for an entirely different reason.

“Eobard Thawne wanted me,” he said gravelly – and his voice was not vibrating anymore. “Joe would have died one way or the other.”

It was the cruelest and at the same time, the _kindest_ thing he could have told her.

A decade and a half of guilt seemed to melt off Iris’s shoulders, and more tears leaked out of her eyes.

He shifted closer, his eyes wide and staring as if fascinated, as his fingers caught her tears one by one. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. His voice had gone low, gone deep. One of his fingers brushed a tear that had trickled to the corner of her lip, hovered there – and her breath caught, her skin prickling with tension – and then slowly, painfully slowly, brushed over her lower lip.

She should pull back, bite his finger, do anything to show that she didn’t accept this, didn’t consent to this, didn’t want this.

She parted her lips instead.

His finger froze, and for a moment, she thought she had completely misread this.

Then Barry yanked his hood off with one swift movement and dove in.

Iris had been seating all this while, and the kiss would have knocked her on her back if his arm hadn’t gone around her, holding her upright while his other wrapped around her head, to tangle in her hair and hold her face in check. And he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

It felt like if he had been starving – for years – and now, finally, he was getting a drink. There was no gentleness, no restraint, his mouth just _devoured_ her own, his tongue plundering past her lips to lick and taste every crevice in her mouth, even as his own lips brushed and sucked and his teeth bit. She whimpered – not knowing what frightened her more – his apparent complete lack of control or her own total abandon, the way her arm had gone round his neck, half-holding for dear life, but also to keep him in place, the way her tongue chased his own, mating, dueling, trying, even as she failed, to keep up with him.

He pulled back with a groan, panting and she clutched him tighter, feeling like if her world was tilting off its center.

“Iris,” he groaned, and his lips were in her neck, biting and licking as his head went lower, and he pushed her so that her back was on the ground, and his long, heavy, _heated_ weight rolled on top of her, and oh god, was he going to fuck her on this … nowhere of a place…

Was she going to let him?

His hair was brushing her neck, his mouth perilously close to the top of her lacy bra – and how far gone was she that her thought now was ‘thank goodness, I’m wearing sexy underwear’? – when, with every pore of her body screaming at her in fury, she managed to curl her fingers through his thick, damp hair and yank his head off her body.

He stared at her, blinking, the look on his face as dazed as her own.

“W-what?” he managed. He was near enough that when he spoke, his breath washed over her lips.

Iris swallowed once. Twice. Before she could speak. “You killed them. Those two cops. You _murdered_ them.”

“They killed my father. Their testimony sent him to the prison where he lost his life.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Iris was sure her heart was racing as much as a speedster’s. If he bent his head and kissed her now… Murderer or not, she wasn’t sure she’d have the will to stop him.

She didn’t need to.

He pulled himself off her so suddenly, and so totally that she let out a strangled gasp. One moment she was being enveloped, and encircled by his hot frame. The next moment he was yards away from her.

They were on top of another roof, she – finally – realized. And by the skyline, not too far away from Jitters. He must have gone round in circles, to confuse her, confuse Wally and Jessie, too. They’d be looking further away, expecting him to have taken her to the fringes of the City, when all the while she was right there, barely blocks away from where she had left.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, the eerie echo back in his voice. His mask was back on. She barely even got a proper glimpse of his face.

Her face burned as she realized she had just made out with a man whose face she might not be able to pick out of a crowd.

A man who was a murderer.

She sat up, stared him down. “Prove it. Then send you to prison for it.”

In the darkness, she could see his mouth twist into a smirk. “You’ve got to catch me first.”

In a streak of red lightning, he vanished.

* * *

Leonard Snart turned himself in for the murders, caught a plea bargain to boot. And no matter how much Iris dug and dug, and Wally (claimed that he) searched and searched, and Jessie (claimed that she) hacked and hacked, they couldn’t come up with a shred of evidence strong enough to convince the CCPD that this was anything short of an open and shut case.

The trio silently agreed, without coming out to say as much, to let it go. Iris suspected that Wally and Jessie were far more sympathetic to Barry’s motivation than they wanted her to know, and she wondered just how thoroughly they had tried to find the evidence.

“How would you feel if it had been Dad?” Wally had asked her once. “If it had been our Dad that was wrongfully arrested. Our Dad that had been sent to prison on someone else’s false testimony? And he died there?”

“We don’t take the law into our hands. Neither should he,” Iris had bit back, her heart pounding in her chest, as she determined not let herself be swayed by her younger, naïve brother’s reasoning. Just as she had determined not to tell anyone about what else happened on that rooftop that night.

As she determined not to even _think_ about what else had happened on that rooftop that night.

Wally and Jessie had just shrugged in unison. Iris had walked out of the house in frustration that day.

He won that round. They let him win that round.

And soon, very soon, they were going to regret it.


	3. Step Into My Parlour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris West publishes her most famous byline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Chapter 2. Iris and Barry are 25. Wally and Jessie are 20. (Basically the same age our principals were at the start of the show.)

_"Kid Flash Missing_ _…_ _Vanishes in Crisis"_ _…_

_"After an extreme street fight with the Rival, our city’s own Golden Speedstar disappeared in an explosion of light. According to witnesses, Kid Flash, with the help of the enigmatic Red Flash, began fighting the Rival around midnight…"_

* * *

 

Iris handed the copy by hand, and Scott took one look at her set, defiant face and he said nothing.

When she went back to her desk, Linda was waiting there with a cup of Starbucks. She put a commiserating hand on Iris’s shoulder.

“He’ll come back, you know. This isn’t the first time he’s disappeared.”

Iris set her jaw and gave her friend a smile that didn’t fool either woman. “I know. I’m not worried.”

Linda shook her head ruefully. “I know how much the Flash means to you.”

Iris shrugged, because she couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in her throat that had formed at her friend’s kindness. She blinked hard at the top of her cup.

Linda squeezed her shoulder. “Go on, Iris. Take off. I’ll cover for you.”

Iris didn’t need telling twice. With a grateful glance at her friend, she grabbed her coat and purse and left.

* * *

 

“They must be hiding him somewhere in there.”

Iris sat hunched over the dinner table, scanning over the schematics of STAR Labs that Jessie had downloaded.

Jessie shook her head from where she sat, scrolling through her computer.

“We’ve searched. Three times. All the containment cells for the meta-humans are under CCPD jurisdiction and there was no sign-”

“They must have some hidden level that we don’t know about,” Iris said with a frustrated growl. “ _He_ has Wally, I know it.”

“Iris…”

“We’re wasting time trying to get Snow and Ramon to talk. They’re as devoted to Allen as they were to Wells. We need to track Barry Allen, make him tell us…”

“You want us to capture a speedster?” Jessie sounded almost amused. “Then what… torture him until he tells us what he knows?”

“YES!”

Jessie ran her hand down her face in a frustrated gesture that Iris was getting too familiar with. “Why?” she snapped. “Why are you so sure that Barry Allen is behind this?”

“He showed up at the fight. He lured Wally out of Central City–”

“The Rival! He lured The Rival out of Central City. You know Wally’s never been able to defeat him on his own… Barry showing up, evened the odds.”

“So it seems!” Iris snapped. “All I know is, Wally was fighting the Rival, _he_ showed up, and now the Rival is dead and Wally is gone.”

“He was trying to help, Iris,” Jessie said, tiredly.

“Why?” Iris asked. “He’s never wanted to, before.”

When Jessie gave her look, Iris glared back. “Only when he had an ulterior motive. When he had something to gain. Eobard Thawne. Zoom. The Dark Arrow. He has never _acted_ as a hero. He has never helped us for the sake of good.” She slammed her palm on the table in frustration. “He got into that fight for a reason. Now Wally is… Wally is…”

Tears threatened. Jessie was by her side at once, her arm around Iris’s shoulders. “Wally is not dead, Iris,” she said with the quiet certainty that Iris envied so much. “He’s not. I would know.” She cut off what Iris was about to say. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. If Wally was gone… _I_ would know.”

“I wish I had your faith,” Iris said quietly.

Jessie chuckled, but her throat was thick with tears. She leaned down as Iris reached up and they hugged each other tightly.

* * *

 

Mason Bridges informed her about the invitation – or rather, the non-invitation.

Iris stared at the memo in shock. “The STAR Labs Exhibit Opening Day Press Pass will be extended to any representative of CCPN except Iris West? What is this?”

“That’s what happens when you step on too many toes,” Mason Bridges said, from where he stood behind her, reading her screen. “You’re not a veteran like me, Iris. You haven’t learnt how to pick your battles.”

Iris twisted in her seat to glare up at the man. “And you’re OK with this? Them dictating to us how we run our News?”

He shrugged. “It’s just an exhibit. It’s a rookie’s job, anyway.”

Iris bit her lip to stifle her angry words.

Later that day, she started telling Jessie about it, when Jessie cut her off.

“Iris, I have something more important.”

She showed her an email that she had received from an anonymous server.

_Possible sightings of Kid Flash in South America…_

There were photos.

“Oh my god!” Iris gasped, sitting down abruptly.

The photos were grainy, and it would be hard to know for certain if they hadn’t been photo-shopped. But that was unmistakably Wally. Standing on what seemed like a beach at sunset. Then again, in the middle of stadium. Then a street market…

“If he’s alive… if he’s alright… why hasn’t he tried to reach us?”

“I don’t know,” Jessie said. “But I’m going to bring him home.”

That was when Iris noticed the suitcase in the corner, half-unpacked.

“ _We_ are going to bring him home!” she exclaimed, springing up to her feet.

“No!” Jessie said firmly. “You have to stay here, and keep an eye on this side of things. Ramon and I worked on the meta-guns for CCPD so that the City stay safe until The Flash returns; but you know we can’t trust him or Snow. He could have put a bug in the tech. Then your job at CCPN is important. You control the news, Iris. You can’t give that up.”

Iris sat down heavily.  Jessie was right, of course. But it still chaffed, it still felt absolutely stifling that she was trapped here when she could be on her way to bringing Wally home.

Jessie shoved an envelope in front of her. “I had my lawyer draw that up.”

Iris pulled out the thick legal document. She gaped. “Power of attorney?”

“To act in my absence on all matters concerning STAR Labs and my father’s legacy.”

The resolution of Harrison Wells’s legacy had been to keep STAR Labs and his assets in joint trust of Jessie Wells and Barry Allen. Iris had not been able to understand Jessie’s reasoning, but the girl had insisted that Barry had suffered so much at the hands of someone who pretended to be her father, that the least he could do was to profit from it.

“STAR Labs wasn’t built by my father,” she had said. “Eobard … Eobard killed him before then. He used my father’s wealth and some of his ideas, but most of the work was his own.”

“Inspired by your father’s work from the future!” Wally had protested. For once, he had been on Iris’s side in this.

Jessie had just shaken her head. “I don’t know where my father started and Eobard ended. Barry is as much a victim of this as I was. A bigger victim, I think, because at least I have you guys. He has those minions of Wells and … so much baggage.”

Wally had nodded at that, conceding the point.

Iris had glared at both of them in frustration. “Why do you care so much about Barry Allen? Can’t you see that he’s just as bad as Eobard Thawne?”

“No, he’s not,” Jessie had said at once.

“Why do _you_ hate him so much, Iris?” Wally had asked, shrewdly.

The conversation had ended then.

Now Iris stared at the Power of Attorney in her hand and a plan started forming.

* * *

 

They had built a single containment cell in the Wests’s home, a small room carved out of the basement.

It was meant for Wally.

After an encounter with a meta called Bivolo had unhinged him for a few hours until the girls had found a cure, they realized that there might be a time – hopefully not often – when they would need to protect Central City from its protector.

It was the same design as the ones under STAR Labs. Wally had test-run it once, and had deemed it ‘horribly effective’ so Iris knew that it could hold a speedstar.

Iris looked at the cache of mini-tranq guns that Jessie had designed, a handier version of the equipment they had provided CCPD.

Her mind was spinning.

* * *

 

The night of the STAR Labs Exhibit Opening, Iris drove herself to the venue. She was dressed in red outfit with a high-necked cut in the front, that made the plunging drop at her back even more striking. Her hair was in a chignon, unusual for her as she normally wore it down, and large dangling earrings dropped from her ears.

“Oh my god,” Linda gasped as she spotted Iris through the crowd. “You look…”

“Thanks,” Iris said with a smile. “So do you.”

Linda’s eyes kept sweeping up and down Iris’s frame, dazed, before they sharpened with alarm. “I thought you were…” her voice lowered “… _banned_ from coming here?”

Iris scoffed. “As press, yes. But I’m representing Jessie Wells, the co-owner of this place. So … no.”

“Oh my god,” Linda whispered. “You’re really going to make feathers fly, aren’t you?”

Iris just smiled enigmatically, and she made her way through the crowd.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, she’s here!”

Caitlin Snow saw her first. Not that that took effort. Dressed in that red slinky number _and_ with a face like that, it would have been impossible not to notice Iris West.

Which, as Caitlin thought with a sinking heart, was probably the whole idea.

“I thought you told CCPN not to send her?” she growled at Cisco.

The two stood at the side of the hall, fake smiles plastered on their faces as they scanned the crowd.

“She’s here as Jessie’s representative,” Cisco growled back. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh god,” Caitlin said, pulling out her phone. “We have to stop Barry from coming. He can’t see her…”

Cisco rolled his eyes discreetly. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far? So he sees her, so what? He’s not going to turn into salt.”

“With her looking like that? Don’t be too sure,” Caitlin snapped. Her call went into voice mail and she left a frantic message. Something about an incident in Panama that he needed to look into.

Cisco scoffed. “He’s not going to fall for that. You should have just told him that Iris West was here. You do know that he could have seen her anytime he wanted to in the past two years? I know you think you’re the one keeping them apart but it’s really all up to Barry.”

Caitlin slanted a withering stare at him. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to talk him down, provide him with… alternatives…” She wiggled her hips slightly and Cisco had to cover his face to hide his revolted expression. “He’s obsessed. It’s unhealthy.”

“And once again, I don’t see how this is your problem. Our problem. Barry’s a big boy, Caitlin. He can take care of himself.”

“Friend don’t let friends fall off the wagon, Cisco.”

Cisco burst into laughter – then quickly disguised it into a cough as a few people stared.

“So Iris West is his drug? You got him on a 12-step program?”

“Yes,” Caitlin snapped. Her eyes, which had never left off staring at the woman in red coming their way, seemed to turn into icy chips. “And I’ll be damned if I let her push him off the edge again.”

A moment later, Iris West was before them. She smiled in a way that, even if Caitlin didn’t already hate her on principle,  would have made Caitlin want to strangle her.

“Ramon. Snow. How nice to see you.”

“Miss West, it’s our pleasure, as always.” Cisco took the offered hand, and turned it around so that he could press his lips against her fingers as he bowed. Iris started a little, surprised and Caitlin almost wished that Barry was here so he could strangle the traitor.

“There’s no special seating for the co-owners,” Caitlin said stiffly. “We’re supposed to mingle with the guests after the speeches.” Iris merely stared at her, and she felt her neck getting hot. “I don’t suppose you have a speech for the guests?” she asked stiffly.

Iris shook her head slowly, that Cheshire-cat smile that infuriated Caitlin still firm on the other woman’s flawless face. “I’ll just _mingle_. A friend of mine from CCPN is here. My influence can help her with her coverage.”

Caitlin flushed, the barb about CCPN hitting home, and the Cheshire smile widened.

Before she could enact the violence that she was contemplating, Cisco held her elbow. “Don’t you have a phone call to make?” he asked quietly.

Caitlin shook her head, clearing it, and remembered that she was trying to stop Barry from meeting this insufferable woman.

“Yes, of course,” she said gratefully. “Miss West,” she said with stiff lips, “if you’ll excuse me-”

_“He’s here!”_

_“Allen!”_

_“There he is!”_

All three turned as one, in the direction of the cries. The main doors were open, and the cameras were flashing as a man strolled into the hall. Dressed in a tuxedo that en-gloved the long, lean lines of his body, and walking with an arrogant confidence, he stepped into the place like a movie star and the crowd seemed to treat him like one.

Everyone knew the story about Barry Allen, Harrison Wells’s protégé, the sad tragedy of his parents, his rough childhood, and how he had overcome all this to become a self-made billionaire in his own right. It was the stuff of fairy tales and comic books and was catnip to the press and politicians. The fact that he was so elusive – hardly ever in Central City or even the country, leaving the running of his business and STAR Labs to Ramon and Snow – made him even more desirable.

Caitlin felt her heart throb a little, watching him as he stopped to say a few words to some of the guests, shaking hands, taking selfies. He looked happy, which was rare enough, his still-thin freckled face creased with grins as he extracted himself from the crowd and started walking towards them. She felt her own face splitting into a smile.

She knew the moment he spotted Iris West.

His entire body seemed to freeze where it stood. All the blood washed out of his face, leaving it paper-white.

“Oh.” Iris said, a small word in a quiet, undecipherable tone that dragged Caitlin’s gaze to her.

The other woman was staring at Barry, her eyes were round with shock. She had lifted one hand to her face, covering her mouth slightly. The other hand was clutching her purse to her side with jerky, spasmic motions.

Then Barry seemed to snap out of his freeze, and he moved – so quickly that Caitlin was half-afraid he was using his speed in public.

He wasn’t. So Iris moved faster, spinning on her heel and pushing her way into the crowd.

Barry turned in her direction at once, and would have followed – and Caitlin felt a sharp pang of absolute fury that this would happen; he _would_ chase after Iris West like some lovesick puppy and the infernal woman would lead him around this place like bait –

But Cisco put a stop to that, stepping forward and grasping Barry by the shoulder firmly.

Caitlin could actually see the way Barry tried to cringe out of the grip but by then, she was at his other side, holding his upper arm.

“Hey, buddy, glad you could make it,” Cisco said genially – and loudly.

“What’s she doing here?” Barry growled softly.

“Didn’t you get my messages?” Caitlin hissed.

“Obviously not,” he snapped.

“You can still leave,” Caitlin said, even though she knew it was impossible. There was no way he could make an appearance and not see it through. The press would tear them apart. The VIPs would be offended.

“Try to pretend she’s not here, and let’s get through this,” Cisco advised, quietly.

Barry scoffed. He jerked again, like if he wanted to break free.

 _Get a grip already_ , Caitlin thought furiously, wanting badly to slap him. Could he make it any more obvious?

“It’s been two years,” she said soothingly, instead. “This was bound to happen. Let’s just get through this, as Cisco said. You don’t even have to give a speech, OK?”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he wasn’t just going to use his speed, and break free from them, snatch up Iris West and leave that place. Then she felt his body relax. He had conceded.

“Fine.”

* * *

 

Iris hadn’t meant to run, hadn’t planned to. She had waltzed in there, expecting to meet him at once. Then she had prepared herself to confront him as soon as she showed up.

Then he showed up, looking like _sin_ in that tuxedo suit… and every suppressed memory of that night on the rooftop came flooding back. She had been paralyzed where she stood, just watching him.

Then he had looked at her… like _that_.

Was that legal? Was he allowed to look at her, at _anyone_ with that blatant _hunger_ written all over his face?

She hadn’t even thought twice before she turned on her heel and … not _ran_ , really. More like made a dignified retreat.

She had worn red to make a statement, now she hated that she couldn’t blend into the crowd. She knew his eyes were on her, stayed on her all through out the presentations and the speeches. At least, he wasn’t staring at her like _that_ anymore – he probably _would_ get arrested if he looked like that in public.

“Are you OK, Iris?” Linda asked.

Iris nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wasn’t, of course.

Suddenly, her plan seemed not just impossible, but absolutely crazy. She didn’t want to meet Barry Allen now – or ever. She would just live though this and go home at once. She’d figure out some other way. Call in a favor from a meta-friend.

In the middle of one of the applauses, she turned to Linda. “I’m not feeling so well…”

“Oh, Iris! Should I call a cab?”

“That’s OK. I drove. I’ll just… see myself out.”

“What about Jessie?”

“I don’t really have to do anything for her here. I really just came to piss them off for not inviting me.”

Linda chuckled at that, then her gaze turned concerned. “You sure you’re OK? You look so pale…”

Iris swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

The speeches were over, the guests were being led into the general exhibition hall through the doors on the other side, and with one last smile at Linda, she started inching towards the main doors.

She was almost there. The doorman gave her a smile, as he opened the doors…

…and Barry Allen was standing at the other side.

* * *

 

Barry knew the instant she made up her mind to escape. He knew the instant she’d make her move. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her once, and had been acutely aware of the slightly frightened glance shes kept sending his way.

That she feared him almost as much as he feared how he felt about her shouldn’t have excited him as much as it did, but it did.

So the look of complete shock on her face when she tried to walk through those doors only to almost bump into him almost made him burst out laughing.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, grimly as she stood, blinking at him.

Her mouth was curved in an ‘o’ of shock, quickly giving away to fear, and he stepped forward quickly, his hand clasping her elbow and pulling her to him.

Two years ago, the first time they had touched in many, many years, after he had got his powers, there had been a shock that passed from him to her, like stored charges being expelled. It happened again. She actually gasped, and he took advantage of that, to put his arm around her waist, and steer her back into the now empty-hall.

She _fitted_ beside him, he thought, his heart pounding. She was so small, that even in heels, her head barely reached his shoulders but she _fitted_.

“I was, yes,” she said finally, her voice sounding strangled. Her hand brushed against his grip on her waist, as if trying to pry his arm away, but then she seemed to think better of it, and let her arm fall.

“But you’ve barely even seen anything worthwhile,” he muttered, bending low so that his mouth brushed the top of her head. Her hair smelt like sweet water, _irises_.

He felt her shiver. “Let me go, Barry.”

His name, in her voice, gave him a kick like you won’t believe. “What did you come here for?”

“To see the Exhibit.”

“That’s why you’re leaving now? Why you ran off the moment I showed up?”

“I didn’t run!” She snapped.

He chuckled darkly. They were almost through the doors on the other side of the hall, that led to the exhibit area. He slowed his long strides, wanting to drag this out.

“No, you were just making a graceful exit.”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, and he dug his fingers into her waist, partly to rile her, and partly to feel the silk of her dress shift against her equally silky skin.

She gasped.

“Read your article,” he murmured. “… _with the help of the enigmatic Red Flash_ … Why, Miss West, I admire your objectivity.”

“What the hell did you do to Wally?” she cried.

He froze, stopping in his tracks. “What do you _think_ I did to him?” He turned her around so he could look at her face, his arm slipping off her waist, but still keeping a grip on her, not ready or willing to let her go.

Tears were standing in her eyes and she blinked them away. Angry tears, by the look on her face.

He felt his heart clench.

“Did you kill Wally?” she asked bitterly.

“Trying to get a confession out of me?” he parried, keeping his voice light to disguise the white-hot flash of rage that had risen in him at her words.

She swallowed hard, clearly pushing past her grief and even as furious as he felt, a pang rose in him at her obvious grief.

“Just tell me if he’s alive.”

His mouth twisted. “That would mean-”

“Barry!”

They both turned to see Caitlin bursting through the doors, all but running at him with a look of sheer angry worry on her taut face. Her eyes flitted to Iris, and instinctively, Barry drew Iris tighter to his side.

Iris cringed, trying to get away but he only held her harder. She had a choice between staying still or making a scene, and – as he expected – she chose the former.

“I thought you were leaving,” Caitlin said through gritted teeth, her gaze narrowed on where Barry held Iris as if she’d like to freeze off that connection.

“Changed my mind,” he retorted, irritated. Caitlin meant well but sometimes – like now – she got on his last nerves.

He felt Iris’s head swivel as she looked from him to Caitlin. He could almost feel the gears in her head turning.

Then her high-heeled foot came down – hard on his shoe – and Barry yelped, shocked, loosening his grip as he hopped in pain. The next moment, she had spun out of his grip – and he would have snatched at her if Caitlin’s hand hadn’t just grabbed him by the elbow.  

“As a matter of fact, _I_ was just on my way out.”

Iris stood a few meters away from them now, her entire body rigid and terse. It provoked him, made him want to reach out and grab her, Caitlin and the watching doorman, and security detail be damned.

But Caitlin’s fingers were now digging into his elbow like pincers.

“Let her go, Barry,” she said through gritted teeth. “Remember what happened the last time…?”

He took a deep shuddering breath, forced a smile that was closer to a grimace across his face.

“We’ll continue our conversation some other time, Ms West,” he told her – warned her. “Perhaps sooner than you think.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, her eyes dark with equal warning.

He watched her go, his eyes following the V of skin on her back until the doors shut behind her, blocking her from view.

“Satisfied?” he asked Caitlin.

She just shook her head, despairingly. He let her drag him back to the exhibit hall.

* * *

 

The encounter with Barry Allen had unnerved Iris more than she could have imagined. But more than anything, what she felt as she parked the car in front of her house was humiliating defeat.

She wasn’t a coward. At least, she never thought herself as a coward. But apparently, that was only because she had never really faced down something – or someone – she feared. Because obviously, she now knew that when faced with a real threat, her instinct had been to turn tail and run. Not just once. But twice.

Humiliating tears threatened to fall as she fumbled with her purse. As she located her keys, her phone started buzzing.

“Jessie?” she asked.

“He’s not here.” Jessie’s voice was thick with sobs. “It was a hoax. I even found where the photoshops were done. And abandoned warehouse with the computers with the imaging manips.”

Iris’s head hit the back of her car seat. She felt like if someone had doused her with cold water. “Oh god.”

“I don’t know what to do, Iris…”

“Call in a favor from… lemme check…” She took off her phone, scrolled through her contacts. “… Darkstorm. He owes us one. If anyone can help you figure out who is behind this – or needs to _extract_ information from them… it’s him.”

Jessie gulped. “OK, OK, I’ll do that.”

“Hang in there, Jessie. I have a plan on this end, too?”

It was a testament to how miserable Jessie was that she didn’t worry at that. “OK.”

Iris hung up, sent a quick message to the Piper. Then she got out of the car, and started walking to her front door.

More than ever this evening, she felt like a complete failure.

She stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the man sitting at her steps, long legs sprawled. Barry Allen was still wearing his suit, but he had unbuttoned the top coat so that his white shirt was exposed. His tie was loosened though, the top buttons loose so she could see a sliver of skin at his throat and below. He was staring right at her, one eyebrow cocked, his gaze steady and deadly.

Iris felt her throat go completely dry.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to choke out.

He smirked. “Finishing our conversation.”

 _Which one?_ She wondered. The one in the Exhibit a few moments ago? Or the one … from two years ago, on the rooftop?

She curled her hands into fists at her side, gathered her courage and asked him just that.

A look of utter shock rippled through his face; and his green eyes went almost completely black. For a moment, he just stared at her, his mouth gaping slightly. Then he shut it, cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice had dropped an octave. “That entirely depends on you.”

Iris bit her lip, staring down at him, feeling her heart pounding erratically in her chest. Then she nodded. “Come in, then.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide, and he blinked up at her for a moment, before he scrambled to his feet, almost stumbling in his haste. Despite everything, she felt a thrill of satisfaction that she had wrung that out of Barry Allen’s usually unflappable demeanor.

She slid the key into the lock, and she felt him come nearer, close enough that he was all but leaning into her. She could hear his breathing, heavy, uneven. The bare skin of her back kept breaking into goosebumps under his heated gaze.

This was too easy.

She had barely opened the door, and stepped in, when he rushed in; and he must have used his speed because one moment she was standing at the threshold, the next moment, her back was against the wall, it was shut behind her, and he was standing before her, his hands flat on the wall either side of her.

“What’s your game, Iris?” he demanded, his voice thick and desperate.

She bit her lip, watched the way his eyes followed her teeth, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. Then she leaned up, standing on tiptoes and caught his mouth with hers.

He made a plaintive, frantic sound and surged into her, his mouth opening and melding into hers. His hands sliding down her bare back to grip her waist, pulling her body into his and bending her slightly. Her hands went around his neck, holding on and for a long, dragging moment, she was swimming in that kiss, mindless and unthinking of anything beyond how good it felt to be in his arms, to feel his long, hot body against her own, their mouths mating.

He broke the kiss first, his lips moving to her cheek, her ear, then down the curve of her jaw to her throat. “Iris. Oh _god_. _Iris._ ”

His voice broke through the haze in her head, lifted her from her daze enough to _think_.

She still clutched her keys in her hand – as well as the tiny miniature tranq that hung from her keychain like a talisman. She did it quickly, without thinking, before she let her hormones or emotions talk her out of it.

For a moment, she thought it hadn’t worked, his mouth still moving frantically against her skin. Then she felt his body tense, and he lifted his head to stare at her, a look of shock – then betrayal so acute, so reminiscent of twelve years ago and a Spin the Bottle game that had gone horrendously, horrifically sideways that she felt her stomach twist inside her – creeping across his face.

Then his eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled on the floor.

 

 


	4. Walking on the Knife's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching a speedster is one thing. Holding him is another...

The cell was narrow, barely wider than his own shoulders and just long enough to make two strides. There was a half door that led to an even tinier bathroom space with basic amenities. The entire structure was kept pressurized with nanites-infected air to remove his meta abilities. Every six hours, Iris would slide a protein bar through the key-pad protected opening in the middle of the door.

He pushed it right back.

She had been counting on the confinement, loss of powers, and isolation to break him; but none of that would help if he starved himself into a coma.

After 48-hours she went down to the basement and turned on the comms and light so that he could see her through the glass walls of his prison. “Where is the Flash?”

He was sitting Buddha-style on the floor, his eyes half-shut but she knew from the signals monitoring his vitals that he was awake.

When she spoke, he smiled smugly and she hated him for making her break first.

“And here I thought you were torturing me with the silent treatment.”

“Tell me where he is and I’ll let you go.”

His eyes were still closed, and the corners crinkled as his grin broadened. “I’m good here, thanks. I’d rather wait and see what you’ll do when you find out you’re wasting your time.”

“Because you don’t know where he is?” she asked, her heart skipping a little. She couldn’t be wrong about Barry Allen having something to do with Wally. If she was – then that meant her brother was…

“What happened when you fought the Rival? What did you do to Wally?”

His eyes flew open then, and she saw anger flash through them, before he lowered them, feigned a lazy indifference. “Pretty sure I saved Kid Flash’s life that night,” he murmured. “Even _you_ couldn’t report any different.”

“And afterwards?”

He smirked. “Now that would be telling…”

She slammed her hands on the glass door. “Where’s my brother, you monster?!”

He kept smirking. “You know that you suck at this whole ‘kidnap and torture for information’ thing, right? If you’re going to get anything from a prisoner, you’re going to have to do more than call me names and offer me that gluten-free poison. Never had to get your hands dirty, have you, Princess?”

She stormed out of the basement.

* * *

 

72 hours after she had locked him up and one call from Jessie telling her that she had made no progress in finding Wally, Iris was at her wits’s end. She half-expected Ramon and Snow to have shown up by now: surely, Barry had told them where he was going when he ditched the STAR Labs Exhibit? But either he hadn’t or they were used to him disappearing without a word for long periods of time.

“You have to eat something.”

Barry was lying on his back now, arms folded under his head; the cell was not quite long enough for him to stretch out full-length so his feet were propped against the wall, ankles crossed. He looked far too relaxed for someone who was starving in confinement.

His face was pale, and his voice croaky but the smirk was intact.

“Worried about me, Princess?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she exclaimed, exasperated.

His eyes swept her up and down. Iris was suddenly, acutely conscious of her outfit – knee-high boots and socks, and mid-thigh length dress. She wore a variation of this everyday to the office, but this was the first time she was made conscious of the inches of skin between the top of her socks and the hem of her skirt, or the way her clothes clung to her body.

Goosebumps broke out over her.

“Fishing for compliments?” he drawled, his voice lilting with an accent that she recognized as her own. 

Iris felt her face flush. She had tried as much as she could to erase the London accent she had picked up in her teenage years but she knew it had never completely gone. For nebulous reasons – tied up with her strained relationship with Francine – she was self-conscious about it.

From the knowing way he chuckled, Barry had picked up on that, was twisting it to his advantage.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You wound me.” He put a hand to his heart in mockery. “Just not in any kind of useful way.”

“Don’t test me!” Iris cried.

He rolled his eyes. “Or you’ll what? Break a nail? Won’t want to get your fancy mani-pedi messy.”

“Just because I’m not as immoral as you…”

“Like I said: Princess.”

“Stop calling me-”

“Rich mom. Fancy school. Nice life. You’ve had the privilege of your black-and-white morality all this while you’ve played at vigilante. But now Kid Flash’s gone–”

“What did you do to –”

“Jessie too–”

“How did you know–”

“And it’s just Princess Iris and the Big Bad Barry she’s got in her dungeon and she doesn’t know what to do with him.”

Faster than she’d imagine possible without his speed, he was on his feet and close enough to the wall separating them, that when he slammed his hands against the glass, she shrieked and took a step back...

…Then felt her skin flush with absolute fury as he burst into laughter, shaking so hard that he bent over double.

“Oh that was too easy!” He raised his head, still laughing hard. His face was creased with mirth, he held his stomach with one hand as he pointed a mocking finger at her.

Iris kicked the glass angrily, seriously tempted to take it down and punch him across his stupid face. “You…”

Still laughing, he sank into a sitting position, resting his back against the wall, with his hands pressed against his stomach. “You make it too easy.”

Long after Iris stormed out of the basement, his parting words echoed in her head:

“Why don’t you go back to your dollhouse and leave this to the grown-ups?”

* * *

 

Iris blamed her next actions on desperation and lack of sleep. It was hard sleeping in the same house where she housed a dangerous prisoner, even though she was certain of the measures in place to contain him. And the longer it took to find Wally, she knew the less her chances were of finding him alive. The idea of anything happening to her baby brother was enough to make her go mad.

That was why she returned to the basement and slid the handcuffs through the opening in the door.

“Snap them on, hands behind your back.”

Barry had been dozing on his side when she rudely woke him by rattling the cuffs together.

He sat up slowly, and his eyes were wary as they looked from the cuffs to her face. His face was paler than the last time. If he didn’t eat anything by the end of the day, he was definitely going to pass out.

“Kinky,” he deadpanned.

“Do it.”

Iris held her breath, expecting an “or what?” but he just rolled his eyes, picked up the cuffs and did as she asked.

She took a deep breath, balanced the tray she carried with one hand, then punched the keypad to open the cell.

His eyes glinted as the door slid open, she stepped in quickly, and it shut behind her. Her heart was pounding. There had been a fraction of a second where the pressure had dropped enough for him to pick up some speed, but he clearly hadn’t realized that as he stayed motionless on the floor.

The cell was really narrow, she realized uncomfortably. There was barely a meter of room between where she stood against the wall, and where he sat on the other side. He had pulled up his legs, but there was a mere meter between his feet and her own.

She picked up the tranq gun from the tray and waved it menacingly at him.

Barry scoffed. “You’re threatening to knock me out… _again_?”

“No,” Iris snapped. “I’m showing you I have this and can use this on you at anytime so no funny business when I do this…” She put the tray down, put the tranq on it, and picked up two of the remaining three items with each hand – the knife in her left and the protein bar with her right.

His eyes widened. “Oh, this _is_ kinky.”

“Shut up,” she snapped as she came nearer, resenting the expectant, almost-eager way he was looking up at her now. No one had the right to look so cheerful in captivity. She paused when her boots hit his legs, and realized that he had stretched them out so she was walking astride them.

Iris narrowed her eyes at him at that, and Barry just blinked innocently. “What?”

She didn’t have any choice but to keep moving, now her skirt was almost brushing his shirt, his eyes had lowered, to stare at her hem-line as if hypnotized, and she asked herself why she didn’t at least change her outfit for this.

In an angry, abrupt move, she knelt down in front of him, her boots and her lower thighs brushing against his pants and shoved the knife against his throat.

He was good, Iris thought grudgingly. His only reaction was to lift his eyes to her face, and raise his eyebrows.

She raised the unwrapped protein bar to his lips. “Eat.”

Barry smiled, shaking his head slightly. She pressed the knife harder. “I said _eat_.”

“This is interesting–” His voice cut off in a groan as she pushed the knife hard enough for it to break skin.

“The next time I ask…” she warned.

He opened his mouth and took a big bite of the bar, his teeth almost nipping off her fingers.

She didn’t know what startled more – the feel of his teeth against her skin, or the way he complied at once – but she felt a rush of heat pool in her stomach. His eyes were steady on her, his gaze knowing and she felt her skin burn.

“Hurry up,” she snapped, trying to cover up the effect all this was having on her.

Barry just smiled, still chewing slowly. She couldn’t help watch his mouth and throat, the way they moved, his lips red from the bar. There was a crumb that clung to the corner of his mouth, and she found her eyes fixed on it, waiting for him to notice and swipe it into his mouth with his tongue, but he didn’t seem to notice.

When he finally swallowed, he grinned. “Some water?”

She leaned back, almost sitting on his legs, to get the bottle – the last thing – on the tray and uncapped it. She had to put it to his lips again, and his eyes fixed on her own as he drank. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away. She felt like if she was falling, the ground opening beneath her.

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice strangled as she yanked back the bottle. Some water spilled, staining his chin, throat, the top of his shirt. He had taken off the jacket long ago, turned it into a pillow. So now his shirt was wet and she could see the hard muscles through it.

She swallowed hard, her hand spasming reflexively.

She could feel his eyes boring into the top of her head, almost daring her to look up at him but she couldn’t. Her gaze was transfixed, frozen, on his chest; it was so still, as if he was holding his breath… until he let it out in a long, shuddering groan and bucked his hips, pulling his knees up and open.

It unbalanced her, making her fall forward and on him, so instead of kneeling over him, she was sitting on him, right on top of his extremely hard, extremely alert cock.

She had stretched out instinctively when he did it, her hands dropping the knife and bottle to clutch at his shoulders, and now she landed, her face mere inches from his own, their mouths tantalizing near each other.

For a moment, Iris just looked at him, wide-eyed, shocked, heart pounding frantically, blood rushing in her ears. Under her hands, she could feel his chest heaving. He wasn’t smirking or smiling anymore. Instead, his face was stark with that same primal hunger that had sent her running from him three nights ago, his pupils blown. That was what sent her scrambling backwards, away from him – or tried to. His head followed her like a snake, his eyes trained on her mouth, his knees jerking upwards so that now she was trapped in the V between his torso and thighs.

She reached for the knife, but he scooted, pushing it behind him. She tried to curve her arm around him to get it, but he just drew his knees higher, all but locking her in his grip.

His shoulders were rising and falling under her hand, and she glanced at him, startled to see that his face was now creased with silent laughter.

“Let go,” she yelped. “This isn’t funny!”

“Actually…” Barry said, gasping. “It kind of is.”

Her hand itched with the urge to slap him; and some of that must have shown in her eyes because he added, cheerfully:

“Oh go ahead. This is playing out far better than any fantasy that I’ve had about you.”

A dark thrill ran down her spine at the word ‘fantasy’, and she swallowed hard. “I’m not some teenage wet dream of yours, Barry Allen.”

“Are you sure?” He rolled his hips experimentally, and Iris gasped as she felt his hardness hit her right _there_. She was undeniably wet now, and she could tell from the slow, unholy smile spreading across his face that he knew that.

He rolled his hips again and she fell forward again, her lips and his almost touching. Laughter and lust danced in his eyes. It was, god damn him, a good look on him.

This had gone so sideways that it wasn’t even funny.

“Let me go,” Iris whispered, defeated.

Barry’s grip tightened. “Says the woman who’s got me handcuffs. I told you that you were out of your league, Princess.”

Anger lashed through her, dulling her lust long enough to focus. Her eyes zoomed in on the crumb that was still at the corner of his mouth, the open V of his shirt, the way his eyes kept following her mouth like a hungry fox, waiting for a rabbit to fall off a tree.

She leaned forward, slowly enough that she could watch the mirth in his gaze fade into wariness, then licked the crumb of the corner of his mouth.

He turned his head at once, his mouth searching for hers but she had pulled back immediately, her heart pounding with excitement and daring.

His face was taut. “You’re literally taking the crumbs from my mouth now?” he asked hoarsely.

“You want me, don’t you?” Iris said, conversationally, even though her mouth was dry. 

He glanced up at her from thick, dark lashes that was absolutely wasted on a man. “I’m sorry, did Barry Junior not make it clear enough?” He did that trick with his hips again.

This time, Iris was ready. She didn’t fight it, just let the motion draw her closer to him, her forehead landing against his own. She felt his shuddering breath at that. Her hands shifted from his shoulder to his chest and she felt his heart race. His eyes flickered almost desperately to her mouth. 

For a moment, they were both still, frozen, then he lifted his head, tried to kiss her.

She pulled back again.

Barry let out a strangled groan.

“This is what…?” Iris asked huskily. “… a ten-year itch? No, not that… Longer right? Before I went to London?”

His jaw clenched, and anger flashed through his eyes.

Her hand on his chest glided down his shirt, tracing his body under the damp silk. She felt his muscles clench under her palm, reacting to her touch.  “How long have you had a crush on me, Barry Allen?”

“ _Please_ ,” Barry growled, his mouth twisting bitterly, every trace of humor vanished from him. “I had just hit puberty. You came home that summer with boobs and an accent. Don’t overthink things, Princess.”

“I don’t know…” Iris said idly, her hands still tracing his muscles now, enjoying the way his skin kept flushing everywhere she touched. She pinched him just beside his navel, and he gasped out a dark chuckle. “I’m going to go with my _gut_ on this one.” This time, _she_ rocked her hips, grinding against him.

Which was a mistake. He threw his head back, his eyes rolling into his head as he let out a guttural moan; and a haze of lust so thick descended on her that for a moment, Iris couldn’t think. She grinded harder, coasting on that haze, and both their bodies shuddered. “Stop it,” he choked out. “For god’s sake, Iris…”

“I…” His mouth was so close, his parted lips wet and red. She really, really wanted to kiss him and for a moment, she couldn’t even think why she shouldn’t…

“I … take… back what I said…” He managed.

“What?” she asked, her eyes almost drooping now; she was so transfixed with the way his mouth moved as they formed words that she barely understood what he was saying.

“… torture… and you… Princess… You’re hella effective when … you put your mind to … you… oh my god, _Iris_.”

His head turned frantically to catch her mouth; she had been reaching for his, and was near enough to hear his breath catch… Then the word ‘Princess’ cut through her haze, and she paused, a moment away from kissing him…

His eyes flew open. “Iris,” it was half-warning, half-plea.

“Where’s Wally?” she asked sharply.

“Alpha Ter–” He started, speaking quickly, then he stopped himself. For a moment, confusion, then disbelief drenched his face in turns, then he laughed darkly. “Unbelievable.”

She did that trick with her hips again, but this time she kept her head – or at least, she kept it better than he did. He looked like if he was close to passing out. “ _Stop it…_ ”

“Alpha what? Where’s that? Where’s my brother?”

“Oh _god_ …”

“ _Tell me!_ ”

“I was… trying to keep him safe… He had a target… _Iris!_ ” She had grinded into him again. 

“Keep him safe from what? Where _is_ he?”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Better… if you don’t… know…”

She exhaled loudly with exasperation, and fell, touching foreheads again. She drew it out, feeling like if she was walking the knife’s edge between her desperation for her brother, and this primal, inexplicable connection between her and this man.

“Just tell me, Barry,” she managed.

She actually felt his cock jump at her saying his name, straining for her. He let out a strangled groan, and his head fell back. “Believe it or not, this is for your own good.”

‘For your own good’.

That phrase struck a deeper nerve than ‘Princess’. Her hand left his chest to grab a fistful of dark hair. Barry winced, his eyes narrowing as she tugged. Cruelly, she pressed her lips, close-mouthed against his own. She felt him freeze, felt him gasp against her mouth, before he surged nearer, tried to kiss her properly…

She pulled back deliberately, smiling maliciously.

He glared at her, something like hate in his eyes. His face was completely red now, so dark that she couldn’t even see his freckles. He spat out his next words. “You’ve had your fun, Iris. Now this ends.”

“Why?” she cooed. “You started this game, didn’t you? Chicken?”

He looked away, and she could see his jaw ticking furiously. Some inner instinct whispered in her head that she was playing with fire, but Iris wasn’t going to be a coward this time.

“So what is this?” Barry asked, in a dangerous whisper, still not looking at her. “Spin the bottle part 2?”

It was like if he had poured cold water on her. She let him go, moved off him at once – and he let her, his legs straightening so she could slide off him. Now, she could see the evidence of his arousal clearly, and she felt her core throb.

This was so sick.

“Was it something I said?” he murmured nastily, swiveling his head to glare at her.

“Shut up,” Iris snapped, looking away.

“Now who’s the chicken?”

Her stomach churned. “We were kids. Get over it.”

“Tell that to your father.”

Iris slapped him. His head turned with the force of the blow, and she drew back her hand in alarm, as she watched the red fill into the hand-print she had left on his face.

She watched frozen as, his face still bent to the side, he moved his jaw experimentally, before he turned to face her with a smug smile on his face. “Someone hit a nerve.”

She turned to leave.

“Hello?” he called. He jiggled his handcuffs. “Forgetting something?”

She whirled around, furious and embarrassed. Not just one thing. The tranq, the knife, the tray… She started gathering them quickly, her movements jerky and conscious of the way he kept watching her, keenly.

She had everything except the knife that was still behind him.

“Move,” she snapped.

Barry glared at her, shook his head. “Not unless you’re holding my keys in your hand.”

She raised the tranq threatening. “Let me get the knife or night-night, for _days._ ”

He glared at it, then shrugged.

Fine!

Iris bent over him, the tranq aiming for his neck, when his left arm curled around from his back, handcuffs dangling from his wrist and grabbed her wrist, clenching so tightly around it, that her fingers opened and the tranq fell out.

She was so shocked that for an entire moment, she could only gape at him, at the hand where the pair of handcuffs dangled, one still locked around his wrist, while the other locked, but empty; then at his right arm still behind him, but moving forward now… his fingers wrapped around the knife…

That was when her reflex kicked in, and she yanked her hand from his grip, started turning to leave the cell…

He was on his feet before she even reached the wall, one arm around her waist yanking her body against his, the other grasping the knife against her throat.

“How did you…?”

He raised the knife high enough so that it was in her line of sight. For a moment, she didn’t know what she was supposed to be looking at – the blade? The hilt? Then she noticed the strange angle of his thumb.

A wave of dizziness hit her. “You broke your thumb to get out of the cuffs?”

“I survived on my own long before I got super-powers, Princess. What did I say about you being out of your league?” He lowered the knife back to her throat.

“Let me go!” She shouted, completely panicked. She tried to kick back with her legs against the glass, but between her tiny height and the narrowness of the cell, all she succeeded in doing was pushing him against the other wall. His grip on her throat loosened a little, but his hold on her stayed firm.

“Keep struggling,” Barry said, his voice a cold whisper, “and we’ll do a reverse roleplay of what just happened moments ago.”

She froze.

“With knife play now, we can really get this kink show on the road.”

“I won’t struggle,” Iris said quickly, her heart hammering.

She could feel his body shaking with laughter.   “Pity.”

Iris typed in the combination with shaky fingers, for some reason not as bothered by the knife against her skin, or his arm pulling her hard against his body – and he was still hard, in _that_ sense – as she was by the way Barry kept rubbing his chin on the top of her hair, a gesture that would have been affectionate under any circumstances. He was humming, an aggravating tone. When the door clicked open, and she tried to step out, he held her in place, burying his face into her hair and inhaling loudly.

It took everything in Iris not to lean into him, tilt her head back so that he could bend and reach her.

_What was wrong with her?_

“You can go now,” she choked out.

His body shook again. “No cup of coffee? Just a ‘wham, bam, thank you Bear?’”

“I hate you,” she snapped. “My brother…”

His grip on her tightened painfully. “I’m not your enemy, Iris,” he snarled. “Not… _yet_.”

And in a flash, he was gone.


	5. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iris forms an unwilling alliance to get closer to solving the mystery of Wally's disappearance.

_Third time lucky_. Or so, Eddie hoped. It wasn’t really the third time he had hung out with Iris West. A coffee at Jitters. A shared lunch at the precinth when she dropped by for leads on a story. But this would be their third formal date, where he took her to somewhere fancy and glitzy, he wore a suit, she wore something that made him the envy of every man in the room, and he let himself hope that he could be something more to her than her source at CCPD.

So far, it hadn’t been off to a great start. He had obviously been the only one to remember the date they'd planned weeks ago; he surprised her at her home – she met him at the door in shorts and cut-out tee. Frankly, she had looked gorgeous and Eddie won’t have minded having the date right there in the house, but she had quickly apologized, dressed in an impressive amount of time, and stepped into her car – she had insisted.

Looking across the expensive table with even more expensive food, at the woman at the other side, he was glad. Iris wore something golden and short on heels that made her legs go for miles, her long hair was twisted so that it fell over one bare-shoulder. Every time he looked at her, he felt a little light-headed.

 _Third time lucky_ , he promised himself.

“I followed the lead you gave me,” he said, once the waiter had left. He’d rather talk about his feelings for her but he knew from experience that Iris wanted to get the business side of things over with first. “I didn’t find anything on Terra Alpha.” At her frown, he continued quickly. “But, I stumbled on this from Mercury Labs.”

Her eyes lighted as he passed his mini-tablet to her. She flicked through the files he had opened. 

“Velocity-9? A speed drug? Mercury Labs is developing a speed drug?”

“There was a break-in a few days ago. A sample of the drug was stolen. The scientist weren’t forthcoming with … anything… really. But do you think there might be a connection? A speed drug and a missing Flash?”

Iris was moving the files to her own tablet. “Anything is possible,” she murmured, her brow furrowed.

He watched her for a moment, then reached out to hold her hand. She looked up at him, startled as if she had forgotten he was there. “I know how much the Flash means to you…” he started, tentatively. That was the thing – he _didn_ _’t_ know how much the Flash meant to her. He knew that Iris West had been blogging about the Flash long before Central City accepted he was real. That she, and Jessie Wells, always seemed to be in the fringes of all of his adventures. But the exact nature of the relationship between her and the Flash were not clear to Eddie.

For a moment, she regarded him, her eyes guarded as if she could hear his unspoken question and was thinking of how to answer. Finally, she smiled sweetly. “This means a lot to me, Eddie. Thank you.”

His heart warmed and he squeezed her hand. After a moment, she extricated it from him so she could finish working on the tablets.

The waiter brought their food just as she was done. Eddie had no more Intel for her and they had the rest of their dinner in companionable conversation. He hadn’t seen Iris’s bubbly side since the Flash’s disappearance, but she was invariably charming, her wit running slightly dry today, but still enough to make him burst into laughter once in a while. Her eyes sparkled across the table, the wine pushing the shadows away, and he psyched himself into believing that dessert would be the best time to bring up the “What are we?” conversation.

Only Iris didn’t want dessert. As soon as the main course was cleared, she made it clear that she was ready to leave.

“I need to follow–”

Eddie caught the hand that she was gesturing with. “Iris,” he said gently. “I was hoping we could talk…”

She blinked at him. “We’ve been talking, Eddie?”

“I mean, ‘talk-talk’.” He gazed into her almond-shaped eyes. She was so beautiful, he thought with a pang. If he didn't get her soon, he would lose her. Women like Iris West didn't stay single for long. He drew in a deep, steadying breath. “About us.”

Those beautiful eyes widened. “Eddie…”

_“Oh for heaven’s sake!”_

Eddie and Iris started, then looked up at the tall, woman with pinched face staring down at them – or more specifically, Iris.

“What are you doing here? Now?” Caitlin Snow snapped.

* * *

As much as Caitlin disliked it, Barry disappearing for days, weeks even on end, was nothing new. Cisco usually laughed away her concerns – “be more worried about anyone that will go after _him_ than the other way around” – but she always worried until they heard from him.

This time, they didn’t hear from him until he showed up at Star Labs, wearing his suit from the exhibit now ragged and worn, his blood-work showing sugar deprivation, and the side effects of high-dosage tranqing.

Getting the full story out of him was like pulling teeth, but eventually he gave them a summary of where he had been all this while.

Caitlin had wanted to call the police at once.

“Are you crazy?” Cisco had said, as Barry gave her a death-glare.

Cisco had done most of the talking, but it was the implacable threat on Barry’s face that had convinced her. Later on, she railed at Cisco for not backing her up.

“He could have died!”

“Iris West won’t have taken it that far, Caitlin. Come on. I’m surprised she even had the guts to take it as far as she did.”

“So what you’re saying is that you have no idea how far she _would_ have gone!”

“Caitlin, you don’t get it?” Cisco had tut-tutted. “To Barry, that wasn't torture. Iris West and handcuffs and a cell is, like, in the top 5 of his biggest fantasies. Take it from me, I’m a dude. He did _not_ want us getting in the middle of that and he would not appreciate you stopping that from ever happening again.” He delivered the last with a note of warning.

Caitlin had fumed. “You men are crazy!”

Cisco had smirked.

So Caitlin had had to make her peace with that. What she couldn’t make her peace with was the sight of the dreaded woman, sitting in the same restaurant that she, Barry, Cisco and Cisco’s date, were supposed to be having a carefree dinner at.

The others were running late – typical. Cisco was probably still busy with his latest floozy, and Barry – for the fastest man alive – was a perpetual late-comer. For the first time, Caitlin was grateful that she was surrounded by such tardy people.

“What are you doing here? Now?” She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes scanning quickly over the bill binder by Detective Eddie Thorne’s elbow. “Never mind. Just leave now.”

Iris West narrowed her eyes up at her. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me that you are so eager to meet him again?” Caitlin snapped. “Not after you…” She gave a deliberate glance at the Detective, who was gaping at the entire encounter, and then looked hard at Iris.

Iris’s eyes widened. “He’s here…?”

Caitlin glanced at her watch. “He’ll soon be. Leave already, OK? Haven’t you done enough to him?”

“Iris, what is–” started Thorn but Iris cut him short, getting to her feet.

“I’ll explain in the car,” she said hastily, gathering her purse, and moving fast.

“Wait… wait…” The Detective started quickly signing the check. Caitlin snatched it from him. “Just… go…”

He gave her a look of utter confusion, and a little obstinacy, getting to his feet and staring her down for a moment. Then he realized that his date had left the restaurant and he checked himself, gave Caitlin one last confused look, then made a quick exit.

Harried, Caitlin signed the check – rolling her eyes at the bill – and made her way to her seat.

Crisis averted.

* * *

  

Cisco arrived ten minutes later with the latest blonde, curvy number, smirking.

“Where’s Barry?” Caitlin muttered, irritably.

Cisco’s smirk widened. “He cancelled.”

“Cancelled? Why?”

“Didn’t say. Strange, too. Because I got a message from him about ten minutes ago, saying he just arrived at the restaurant and was about to go in. Then almost immediately, he sent a message blowing us off. Wonder what made him change his–”

Caitlin’s hand made an involuntary movement, and the glass of wine at her elbow went crashing to the floor.

“Caitlin… are you alright?”

* * *

  

The ride back to her house was uncomfortable.

“You’re really not going to tell me what that was all about?”

“I already told you what I _can_ say.”

“You barely told me anything.”

Iris sighed heavily. “Eddie, we’re friends and there’s no nice way to say this but I don’t have to tell you anything at all!”

She saw him flinch and sighed.

The thing was that… she actually _liked_ Eddie. For one, he was undeniably pretty, and – as Linda constantly reminded Iris – if she had to take a detective out for coffee to talk about a case, it was great that he was so nice to look at. He was also sweet, attentive, driven and all the usual characteristics that women her age generally looked for in men. He was a cop like her father, and in some ways even reminded her of him. On an intellectual level, Iris knew she could let herself fall for Eddie, the way he clearly wanted her to.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? _Intellectual_ level… _let_ herself…

(Especially when there was already someone whom Iris reacted to in a way that was the opposite of intellectual – primal, native, animalistic even. To whom she drawn to entirely against her own will…)  

She clamped down on her dangerous thoughts at once. That way led to madness. The woman was a bitch but Caitlin Snow had done Iris a favour this night. She did not want to ever see _him_ again.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," she said now softly into the silence, and she wasn't just apologising for snipping at him.

There was another uncomfortable pause. "Maybe, we shouldn't see each other for a –”

He didn't finish the sentence. She felt a gust of wind whip through the sealed car - the windows were up against the evening chill, and Iris glanced over at him, startled to see…

That Eddie was gone.

She was alone in the car, her purse open on the seat he had just vacated.

She gasped, slamming on the brakes, and looking through the rear mirror at the same time. It was a long stretch of empty street and she could see a figure lying on the side of the road, almost half a mile away.

“Eddie,” she gasped, not thinking, about to turn the car into reverse when there was another gust of wind and a hand covered hers on the drive, and pushed it back to Drive.

“He’s fine. His partner at CCPD will be coming to pick him up anytime.”

She turned her head so sharply, her hair flew across her eyes, and it took her a moment to shake it out, and look into the calmly smirking face of Barry Allen.

“I need a lift to Mercury Labs. You offering?”

* * *

  

“What the hell–”

“Hey, do you have anything to eat here?” He had opened the glove compartment and was rummaging through it. “I missed my dinner.”

“What the hell are you–”

“Bingo!” he crowed, as he retrieved one of Wally’s protein snacks that Iris kept for emergencies. He finished it in two big bites. “Speedsters need their boosters. That’s why I’m hitching by the way. No energy to run.”

“I will throw you out of my car if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here, right now!”

“What I’m doing is offering you some much needed back-up,” Barry said, as if this were a normal conversation under normal circumstances, and not that he had just physically assaulted her date and technically kidnapped her. As if his presence beside her wasn’t contracting the very air in her tiny car, threatening to suffocate her, causing goosebumps to break out over her skin, making her hyper-aware of every inch of exposed flesh. She had thrown on this outfit simply because it was the first thing in the ‘date’ side of her closet that her hand had landed on, and while it had been gratifying to see Eddie’s face light up like a Christmas tree, she hadn’t been self-conscious about it. Now she was aware of just how high the hem rose on her thighs, her bare arms and shoulders and the way the neckline followed her breasts.

She could feel Barry’s eyes sweeping over her, burning her with his gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly hoarse. “You’ve got a lead to chase, right?”

“How did you even know…”

He raised her mini-tablet. Iris hadn’t even realized he was holding it. “Speed-reading. Velocity 9, huh? Interesting…”

Despite everything, her curiosity took precedence. “What do you know about this?”

“Zoom – remember him? – needed it to prolong his life, while he was scheming to take Wally’s speed.”

Iris shivered, remembering Hunter Zoloman, Wally’s false mentor, who had deceived them all.

All of them except…

For the first time, Iris noticed that Barry wasn’t wearing an evening suit, but his red speedster outfit. Him in it… bothered her.

His presence in her car was like a series of small explosive surprises, constantly throwing her off.

“I remember that you killed him,” she said harshly.

Her eyes were on the road. She was driving on auto-pilot, barely knowing where she was going. So she felt – rather than saw – the burning look he gave her for that.

“ _I_ remember that I stopped your brother from giving up his speed, and I saved his life. I remember that I saved the Golden Speedstar the moral conundrum of deciding whether to take one life to save millions of lives, so you can argue that I also saved your brother’s soul. But selective memory has always been your thing, hasn’t it, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that!” Iris snapped, feeling the blood rush to her face. The non-endearment brought back memories – not that they had ever really left her – of his time in captivity. The hand-cuffs, the ‘torture’…  

Her whole body was flushing now, her hyper-awareness of him ramping up. In that synth-leather suit, his anatomy didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her hands flexed nervously on the wheel. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “You want to find the connection between this speed drug and your brother’s disappearance. I have my reasons as well to know more about Velocity-9. You can show up there with your press badge and maybe, weasel some intel out of someone. Maybe. That’ll give you a few days at least while Wally is wallowing under god-knows-what-conditions…”

“You…”

“Or I can get you in that building, and give you access to their servers and everything you need in a matter of hours?”

It sounded so reasonable. There was only one small problem…

“I don’t trust you.”

There was a long pause. When Barry spoke, his voice was clipped. “You’re the one who duped me, and locked me up in your cellar. If anyone is taking a risk here, it’s me.”

Iris snuck him an angry glare, furious that he was making her remember things that she had been trying so valiantly to push out of her head.

“Anyway, I know for a fact that you’ve worked with people you didn’t trust before. So what really is the problem here?” His gloved hand touched her knee. The leather was cool, heat-proof, but she felt like if a charge had passed from him to her. She jerked her knee away abruptly, her grip on the wheel jerking too so that the car swerved for a little while.

Barry burst out laughing, his chuckles mocking. His hand fell back to her knee, making her squirm. “Seems to me that there’s another reason you don’t want to work with me, Princess.”

“How about because I think _you_ _’re_ the one behind Wally’s disappearance?” She retorted, taking one hand off the wheel to push his hand away. His grip on her thigh tightened, sending hot and cold shivers through her skin from the point of contact. The car swerved a little and she cursed, giving up to grip the wheel.

He chuckled again, his hand slipping up.

“Stop it,” Iris said, her voice strangled.

“If you really think I know something about your brother’s whereabouts, shouldn’t you want to keep an eye on me? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, as they say.” His words were mild, but his voice had dropped an octave. She could feel his eyes flickering from her face to his hand.

Iris bit her lip, her core heating up. She pressed her knees together, almost involuntarily. The urge to push his hand away was giving way to the urge to see just how far he wanted to take this.   

A stillness had fallen in the car. Both of them silent, both of them tersely aware of Barry’s hand creeping underneath the hem of her golden dress…

The Bluetooth-connected phone rang, jarring them both.

Barry cursed slightly, slipping away his hand as Iris tapped on the wheel to pick the call. It was an unknown number, and possibly a source.

“Hello?” She threw him a nervous glance. “ _Leave_ ,” She hissed.

He shook his head with a smirk.

“Iris?” The voice was familiar.  

“Jessie!” Iris exclaimed. She hadn’t heard from the younger girl in days! “Where are you? Did you have any luck with–” She threw Barry another glance. His eyes were glinting curiously in the car. “Jessie, I can’t talk right now…”

“Neither can I. Just wanted to say I have a lead on the Terra clue you emailed me. I think it might have to do with alternative Earths.”

Barry inhaled sharply, but Iris barely heard it over the thump of her heart. “What? You think Wally is in another Earth? But I thought the breaches to Earth-2 were sealed after Zoom?” She glared at Barry, who blinked at her, giving away nothing.

“I’ll tell you more when I find out,” Jessie replied. “In the meanwhile, don’t expect to hear from me for some time.”

“Jessie, wait… Are you going to another Earth?”

“I don’t know. I can’t say. Just don’t worry about me if you don’t hear from me, OK?”

“Jessie…”

“Talk to you soon, Iris.”

The line cut.

Iris swore in frustration.

Barry mock-gasped. “Manners, Miss West!”

“Oh, shut up!” She cried, flinging a furious glare in his direction. “Where the hell did you take my brother to?”

She didn’t expect him to answer, not really, so she was completely surprised when he said mildly. “I guess there’s no point in hiding this anymore. Wally’s on Earth-A01, or as its inhabitants prefer, Terra-Alpha.”

“What? Why?” She didn’t even _know_ what questions to ask.

He shrugged, his shoulders rolling under the leather. “It seemed expedient at the time.” She felt him glance at her. “Will you believe me if I said that Wally agreed to it?”

“I won’t–” she started, then stopped. She didn’t know. Wally’s childhood hero-worship of Barry Allen had exploded when he found out that Allen was Red Flash.

Sudden tears burned in her eyes. “You mean, he went along with this, knowing that he’d be missing, that Jessie and I would worry and he didn’t even care…” She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.

She jumped when a cool hand brushed against her cheek, catching the tear that had fallen. “In Wally’s defence, there wasn’t time to send a message to you. And I,” to her surprise, he actually sounded a bit guilty, “might have given him the impression that I was going to tell you.”

She gaped at him, taking in the mutinously guilty lines on his face, for so long that he had to grab the wheel. “Hey!”

She turned back to stare at the windscreen, brushing off his hands angrily, feeling rage bubbling under her skin. “ _What_?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect you to believe me so… I figured there was no point bothering…” He snickered softly. “And if you _had_ believed me, we might not have got to play with handcuffs. Which would have been a crime…”  

“You … you…”

“Hey, you missed the turn.”

It took everything in her not to turn to glare at him again. She had a feeling that if she looked at him, she might reach over and start hitting him. So instead, she looked at the road, really _looked_ at it, and realized that she had just driven past Mercury Labs.

“We’re here,” Barry murmured. “Let’s do some sleuthing.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Eddie is deliberately called "Thorne" in this story. I played around with canon a bit and decided that the name of the Thorne family changed/evolved into Thawne across the centuries. Since it's not relevant to this story, I didn't want to have to start explaining why no one made a connection between Eobard Thawne and Eddie Thorne.


	6. The Speedster, the Piper and a touch of Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she follows her lead, Iris encounters three metas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taken this long to update this. Real-life issues, bla bla blah... Anyway, thanks for encouraging reviews! Enjoy!

She parked just outside the security perimeter of Mercury Labs and Iris made one last attempt before they got out of the car.

"I need to know what the heck is going on with you and my brother."

"What you _need_ right now, is to get into Mercury Labs, get through their security protocols and get all the information you need on Velocity-9 before their shifts change, and their protocols are reset. I can help you with that. The rest… will come later."

Much as she wanted to, there wasn't much to argue against that.

Barry Allen was true to one promise at least – he got her through the layers of physical and electronic security that warded the Mercury Labs main servers in a, well, flash. One moment, she was stepping out of her car, conscious of her bare legs in the cool evening breeze, and the next moment, she was seated in front of a server station, a clicking cursor showing her that she had access to one of the most coveted databases in the technological industry.

Jessie and Wally had once tried to hack into Mercury Labs, and they had nearly brought the whole building's private military squad on their heads.

Iris looked over at the man who was leaning against the desk beside her, his arms folded, his body language as smug as the smirk on his face and she rolled her eyes so that he won't see the look of awe that must have crossed her face.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" she quipped, as she started typing furiously.

He scoffed. "I _know_ that you are," he retorted, and pushed off the desk. He swung another workstation to him, and the keypad sparked with electricity, his fingers flying so fast that all she could see was a blur.

Lord knew what his real motive bringing her here was, Iris thought worriedly. Mercury Labs and Star Labs were corporate rivals. She bit back a pang of guilt. It wasn't as if she could have stopped him from coming here if he wanted to.

She concentrated on her own research, quickly finding the folder and files on Velocity-9. It was a lot of information, and there was no point and no sense in trying to go through it here. She also realized suddenly and with some despair, that without Jessie and Wally (oh Wally!) around to translate the sciencey jargon, that she would have a hard time figuring out what half of these things meant.

But she didn't need sciencey jargon to understand financial sheets – or the names of the scientists involved in the research. The lead was Dr. Eliza Harmon, a bio-engineer. Iris made a quick read through over one of her initial project summaries, and her eyes caught on something that even with her non-STEM background, was easy enough – and frightening enough – to understand.

_"…synthesized from original samples of hemoglobin extracted from _homo accelerato_ and further samples will need to be acquired…"_

"Speedster blood?"

"What?" Barry asked, his blurred fingers becoming distinct as he paused.

"Look at this," she said, turning her screen, and half-turning her body to him so that he could read the report, too. "Doesn't this mean that a major component of Velocity-9 is speedster blood?"

He seemed to blink – she imagined it would take him less than a second to read through that screen – and his face paled. "Yes," he hissed.

"It wasn't before, was it? With Zoom? I don't remember him needing speedster blood to make this."

"He didn't," Barry said, his face still pale, and getting harder with each moment. "This is an upgrade." He tapped a line that Iris had missed. "Velocity-10."

Iris felt suddenly light-hearted. "I don't suppose," she asked through stiff lips, "that you've been donating blood to Mercury Labs?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Wally," she whispered, feeling panic rising through her. "Oh my god…"

His hands clasped her shoulders at once. "Hey. Hey, look at me!"

She stared at him, barely seeing him through the haze of dull horror coating her vision.

"Wally is safe. He's on Terra Alpha and he is perfect fine."

"How do you know that?" She cried desperately. "Do you like… inter-dimensionally Skype to him or something?"

His mouth curled a little, something softer than a smirk. His hands slid from her shoulders to her upper arms. She could feel his warm fingers stroking her skin, calming her despite herself. "Not exactly. But I have a way of checking in on him and he's fine."

"You have a way…" Iris barely finished her words, before anger quickly took over her panic. "You can get in touch with my brother and you're just letting me know now? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He squeezed her arms. "It's not instant message, Iris. It takes a lot of energy, and it's really just for me to keep an eye on him. He's not even aware that I'm doing it."

"Spying on him," she said sharply.

His mouth twisted into a full smirk.

She wriggled out of his grip, pushing her chair back for leverage. "What is wrong with you? You knew Jessie and I were going out of my mind with worry about him, and you just kept this to yourself all this while in order to play your twisted games…" Her voice trailed off, her face flushing as memory assaulted her.

"I'm not the one who brought the handcuffs," he scoffed. "Not that I'm complaining…"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "I want to see my brother! And I need you to tell me right now why you're hiding him, and what the heck is going on."

"Later," he drawled, moving back to his seat. "Remember what I said about the time crunch we're on. Last time I checked, I was the only speedster in this room. I've overruled the copy protection, by the way, so no nasty bugs will come after you while you're downloading what you need." Beat. "You're welcome."

Iris bit back a growl of frustration, and swiveled back to face her monitor. She closed all the open files, and grabbed her purse to get her USB stick. It was a high-density storage device, fashioned by Jessie to look like a faux-lip gloss. She plugged it into a port, and blinked a little at the time it would take for the files to be copied.

She tapped her fingers impatiently, and glanced over at him, where he was still working. Once again, she wondered exactly what he was getting from his competition's database.

She could still feel his fingers on her skin from earlier, warm but distinct, like a soft brand.

"How long have you and Wally been working together?"

He barely flickered a glance at her. "From about the time I saved him from Woodward, I guess."

Iris felt her stomach twist with hurt and betrayal. "That long?" How had she not known this? And what about Jessie, had she been aware of this relationship between Wally and Barry, too? Was that why she had always been so adamant in her belief in Barry Allen's innocence?

He paused to look at her then. "Are you really surprised? Did you forget the part where I saved his life? Then shortly after, joined forces with you lot to take down _my_ mentor and adopted father?"

"The adopted father who murdered your mother, and framed your real father for it? Who murdered my father?"

Pain flashed across Barry's face and guilt filled Iris. Her hurt had caused her to lash out at him, even though, for probably the first time since their weird relationship started, her anger hadn't really been directed at him.

Instinctively, she stretched out her hands at him. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did," he said shortly, turning his back to her.

She folded her hands in her lap, twisted them painfully. "I can't imagine what you must have gone through, Barry," she said quietly. "After you… ran away… Then foster care… Then juvie… Then Wells… Thawne, I mean. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

He scoffed softly. "Lucky you."

She blinked hard, and turned away, stared at the monitor unseeingly. "That night… Patty's party… I'm so sor-"

He chuckled darkly. "Patty's party," he sing-sang, over-riding her words. His chuckles stopped abruptly. "You apologized to me already, Iris. I don't want a repeat."

She blinked again, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

There was a long, terse silence. She could feel his gaze flickering in her direction, hard and burning, but she couldn't bring herself to return it. Even the questions she wanted – needed – to ask about her brother, stayed stiffly in her throat.

The beep from the machine in front of her, brought her back to reality. The download was finally completed. She stood as she reached to yank out the stick, maneuvering around the monitor to grab the faux lip-gloss, and she felt the skin of her bare legs shiver with goosebumps, a reaction to the intense gaze that had focused on them.

She told herself not to, but she couldn't help it – she glanced over at him, and caught his hot, searing gaze on her body. He had clearly finished whatever he came for, and was now, just sitting down, his legs sprawled, his brows lowered as he stared at her. She felt her core heat.

"Rude much?" she muttered, fighting against a full-body shiver, as she sat back on her seat, fumbling as she tried to cap the stick.

"When are you going to make an honest man out of Eddie Thorne?"

The stick slipped out of her fingers, falling to the floor.

She ignored it. "What?" she gasped, staring at him.

He was still smoldering – more like glowering, now – at her. "Detective Pretty-boy. The one that you keep dangling on a hook in exchange for feeding you news from CCPD. Ever going to reel him in or you'll just leave him flopping on the deck?"

"I…" She didn't know what was more outrageous – his weird metaphor or the audacity of the question.

"Then again, walking over men's hearts with six-inch heels, that's like your super-power, isn't it? I should know." He practically snarled the words.

She gaped at him, speechless for a long moment as hurt and anger warred inside her. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't know me."

"Really? So you're telling me that you… _love_ " – his voice was a sneer, a hint of an edge – "Eddie Thorne?"

"That is none of your business."

Beat. Then he said, "Actually, it kind of is."

"How the hell do you figure that-?"

"That kinky side of you – the knife play and the dungeon – "

"- I wasn't _playing_ with you –"

"- I kind of feel that it doesn't come out much with him. That face is too pretty for anything other than vanilla sex."

Iris felt her face flush; her whole body, in fact, was practically burning with outrage, embarrassment, and something dangerous.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," she said at last. She swung away, and leaned down to pick up the fallen USB stick.

When she straightened up, she stifled a scream. He had wheeled his seat right in front of her, his long legs stretched on either side of her own chair, and his ankles hooked on the wheels of her chair, effectively trapping her between him and the desk behind her. His face was inches away from her, his eyes dark and intense as they seemed to take in her entire face, then hover at her lips.

That heat, that was constantly between them, escalated, degrees below flashpoint.

"Barry…" she said, hoarsely, a warning – and a plea.

His eyes, impossibly, went darker. "Are you in love with him?" Now there was no denying the dangerous edge in his voice.

There was a thousand things she could have retorted to that question: "none of your business", "won't you like to know?" amongst them. But that would require a level of composure that right now, trapped in his gaze, feeling his warmth so tantalizingly close to her, her own body practically melting from his proximity – that Iris didn't have.

"We've barely gone on three dates," she stammered.

Something flashed in his eyes. "That's not an answer."

Iris swallowed. He was too close, his eyes were too intense, his mouth was too soft, too… She licked her lips, instinctively, and she almost whimpered at the way his eyes tracked her tongue, a cackle of Flash-electricity flickering through his green gaze.

A sudden sharp shrill cut the silence of the room, sending Iris falling back into her chair as Barry let her go, pushing his chair backwards on the floor. He was muttering under his breath, his finger to his ear.

"What was that?" she gasped, still reeling from one moment of intensity to another.

"A complication," he said tensely. "Also, we'd better move. The shift changes and protocol reboots will be going down in ten…"

There wasn't anything left for her to do besides re-checking that she had the valuable USB stick. In a, well, flash, he had got them through the labyrinthic building as effortlessly as it had taken him to get them in, in the first place.

She leaned, blinking against her car, her hair still settling around her shoulders, as he stood before her. Somewhere in all the whirlwind Flashing to and fro, her careful braid had loosened, and now her long hair hung loose over her shoulders.

He was staring at her hair, or at her bare shoulders, she wasn't sure which. She was sure of the look in his eyes though, a slightly milder version than the way he had been looking at her a few moments ago. Which just meant that he was looking like if he wanted to eat her, and not just devour her.

His jaw was ticking, his hands clenched at his sides, and she was painfully aware of how much leashed power was locked in that hard, lean body inches from her.

"Barry…" she tried, her heart pounding.

He looked away. "I've gotta run."

"You…" Relief and disappointment, paradoxically, assailed her. She was such a mess. He made her such a mess. It was a desperate effort to remember what was important at this moment.  
"You haven't answered my questions…"

His mouth twisted. "Dinner tomorrow then. I'll text you where and when."

"What?"

There was a cackle of red lightening, and by the time, she had pushed back the long strands of flying hair from her face, he was gone.

It took her the entirety of the long drive home for her heart to stop racing.

* * *

Eddie had left frantic messages on her phone that filled Iris with guilt when she listened to them. Guilt for being the indirect cause of what had happened to him, and guilt for barely sparing him a second thought after Barry's flighty reassurance that he (Eddie) would be fine.

After a long night, she showed up at CCPD the next morning with a cup of java from Jitters to assuage her conscience and she was glad to see that other than a Band-Aid on his cheek, he was fine.

"What was that, Iris? If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn it was the Fl-"

"One of my meta-human sources," she said hastily. "One with… privacy issues. I'm really sorry Eddie."

"Are you OK?" he asked for the zenith time.

"I'm fine," she said, desperate to reassure him.

She watched him watch her, his concern and care written all over his honest face and Barry's words from the night before seemed to haunt her.

Hastily, she got to her feet. "I'm late for work…"

He reached out and held her wrist. "Iris…"

"Eddie… What you asked, last night…"

"I know, Iris… I'm sorry I shouldn't have…" He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable and unhappy but quite determined. "I value our friendship, Iris. I would never try to take anything more than you're ready to give me."

A lump thickened in her throat. "Oh, Eddie."

He cleared his throat again, letting go of her hand, and looking around his desk, in a clear effort to change the topic. "So… the stuff I gave you last night? Was it any good? Is there anything I can help you with?"

There was, actually. She had stayed up for most of the night, combing through the files on the stick with a fine-tooth comb, and cross-referencing what she could understand. She had already confirmed that Dr. Eliza Harmon, and her two assistants on the project, were unreachable. All attempts to get their whereabouts from their colleagues had proved fruitless. Dr. Eliza herself didn't have any family or close friends apparently – her In Case of Emergency contacts were all people in the company. However, there were no missing person reports or anything of that nature. They seemed to have simply disappeared.

Eddie and his detective skills and assess would come in useful here, and for a moment, Iris wavered, torn between the need to use all the resources she had to pursue this, and her newfound guilt at her treatment of him.

Making up her mind, she forced a bright smile across her face. "I'll let you know."

* * *

Hartley Rathaway, the meta-human that the world knew as the Pied Piper, arrived in his usual early manner at her doorstep.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where Jessie went to? Or where Wally really is?"

"Nope," Iris said brightly.

He scoffed. "You know I hear everything, right? You don't have any secrets from me."

"Good. Because you're going to tell me what you think you know about them, and then you're going to interpret all this sciencey jargon to me, and then you're going to tell me everything you know about Dr. Eliza Harmon and Velocity-X."

He raised his eyebrows at that. Ordinarily, they'd haggle a bit over his fee. As he always maintained, he wasn't on Team Good or Team Evil. He was on Team Hartley. Thankfully, cash wasn't his preferred form of payment. Information was preferred, followed by favours and this time around, he owed her one.

In the end, he didn't have anything new to tell Iris about Wally and Jessie, and apparently wasn't as up to speed as he bragged. But he was invaluable in translating the vital details of the Velocity-X project, enough for Iris to know that the speedster blood that was being used to synthesize the drug was not Wally's or Barry Allen's.

"A third speedster?" she exclaimed, alarmed. Nothing good had come from a third speedster – Eobard Thawne and Hunter Zoloman had been monsters. Barry Allen, whose alliances were as undefined as Hartley's, was a handful. If they had a new third running around Central City…

Hartley grimaced, not looking any more pleased himself. "Looks like it." He pointed at a datasheet that was just numbers and letters to Iris, but that Hartley said was a DNA analysis report. "Male. Early fifties. Caucasian…"

A thought niggled in Iris's brain. "Zoloman? But the age doesn't fit and anyway, he's dead… isn't he?" Her heart stuttered as she imagined that mad man still running loose… somewhere.

As much as she hated to agree with Barry, there was no denying that Zoloman had been one of the most diabolical enemies that The Flash had encountered simply because of how insane he was. At least, Eobard Thawne had had an endgame, twisted as it was. Zoloman had been plain bat-shit crazy. There was no denying that the options left for dealing with such irrationality had been few and far between.

Iris felt a twinge of shame at herself. It was all very well for her to condemn Barry for killing Zoom, but she knew at the time that she had only felt relief that he was dead.

Only… was he?

Had Barry really killed Zoom?

A few days, maybe even a few hours ago, Iris's suspicions would have turned straight to Barry Allen – wondered if he had really killed Zoom, wondered if he had been only playing a long game in his attempt to 'save' Wally from getting his hands dirty.

Aside from her investigation into Mercury Labs/Velocity-X, she had also spent the night poring through the records of all of Team Flash's adventures to date. From the very first Iris kept a faithful log, filled with details and information – half of which would never see the light of press day; and she insisted that Wally and Jessie did the same. Theirs tended to be more technical than hers, but from comparing their notes with hers, she had seen the gaps that she missed the first time around: useful information, the sources of which were unaccounted for, coincidences that had occurred a tad too frequently, tech upgrades that had been a shade too fortuitous, even physical battles that had been won a little too easily.

Now that she was looking for it, she could see where all those gaps were filled by the shape of the Scarlet Speedster. Beyond the Reverse Flash, Zoom and the Rival, Barry Allen had been helping her brother, helping _her_ , without her knowing.

Iris's head and emotions were still whirling with the enormity of this realization. But one thing was certain – she had no reason to suspect that Barry meant her brother harm. Regardless of however unscrupulous or unnecessarily complicated his methods were, regardless of his own past with their family, with _her_ , he had been protecting Wally all this while.

So she knew now that even if Barry hadn't ended Zoom, but he must have believed he had.

"Maybe they collected samples of his blood before he died," Hartley murmured.

"Is that possible? There are records in there, aren't there, of the amount of Velocity-X they've produced, and the quantities of each ingredient, things like blood volumes right?"

Hartley scrolled through files. "Yep," he confirmed.

"Does the data support that theory? I mean, does the volume of blood used up seem like something that they could have extracted from him during his time on this Earth? I mean, assuming that he donated blood willingly, because I'm quite certain that's the only way they could ever have got anything from that man."

Hartley scowled at the screen in front of him, then shook his head. Iris made him go through the figures with her, wanting to understand them and not just take his word for it. It was easy enough to follow. The amount of speedster blood that had been consumed in the manufacture of Velocity-X was enough to drain three full-grown men. There was no possible way for Zoloman to have donated that blood while he had been alive, in the short duration of his time on this Earth.

"That's assuming it's Zoloman," Hartley reminded her. "It could be someone else entirely, donating small samples over the past year." The Velocity-X project had been initiated a year ago. "Unlike Allen and Wally, I don't have Zoloman's DNA signature so I have no way of cross-referencing whose this is."

Iris heaved a sigh. "I know someone who might." Her mind wandered, not for the first time – or the last time – to Barry Allen, the Red Flash, the Scarlet Guardian Angel that she had never known had been hovering in the background all this while – then further to Star Labs, and the people that worked for him.

* * *

_"9 o'clock. I'll pick you up. Wear something red."_

It seemed to be a day for barter. First Hartley, expertise in exchange for written-off favours. Now Barry Allen wanted a date in exchange for information about her brother.

Iris didn't have a lot of options about the latter. But she still felt a flash of … something… as she read the text. The idea of spending even more prolonged time in Barry Allen's exclusive company, with all this new information about his benevolence still sifting through her head, seemed particularly… unwise.

She slammed her phone down on her desk at CCPN, and glared at the search results on the monitor in front of her.

"Are you OK?"

She looked up at Linda's concerned face, and forced her own into something less aggressive. "Peachy."

Linda looked skeptical. "I know with the Flash gone…"

Iris sighed heavily and Linda's voice trailed off.

"OK, I'm sorry," Linda said. "But you know that if you need anything – a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to… I'm here."

Iris smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Linda."

Linda nodded. She knew full well that that Iris's relationship with the Flash was something that she couldn't talk to her friend about. She understand it, even. But Iris had been out of sorts since the Star Labs Exhibition launch and she was worried about her friend.

Which reminded her…

"What is going on between you and Barry Allen?"

Iris, who had been about to sip a cup of java, shook so badly that it spilled on her desk. She reached hastily for paper towels as Linda's eyebrows rose on her forehead.

"How dare you keep that a secret from me, Iris?" she asked, only half-faking her hurt. "You land the most eligible bachelor in Central City, and you keep that all to yourself?"

"I didn't land anyone," Iris snapped, steadfastly avoiding her friend's eyes.

"Yeah, that's why he kept looking at you like… like…" Honestly, Linda blushed just thinking about it. Frankly, she wasn't even sure if she'd for anyone to look at her the way Barry Allen had been looking at her friend that night. There was intense and then there was _intense_.

"I gate-crashed his launch and it pissed him off, that's all."

Linda scoffed. "Keep your secrets, then." She swiveled her chair, ready to go to her own desk, when Iris reached out a hand and held her in place.

"Actually, if you want to help, I'd love for you to do me one little favor…"

* * *

Caitlin sat down brusquely at the table at Jitters's and stared at the petite dark-haired woman across from her. She had no idea who she was, and not for the first time, she wondered why she had bothered to show up for this mysterious and impromptu interview.

"Dr. Snow, so glad you could make it. Linda Park, CCPN," the woman said, offering her hand.

Caitlin ignored it, and went straight for the jugular. "Look, the allegations of Star Labs being involved in high school sports doping is outrageous," she said at once. "If you publish one word of that article, we will sue your company into bankruptcy."

Linda Park blinked. "Wow, I can see why she needed me to do this."

Caitlin took a deep breath, ready to launch into the second part of her tirade, then the other woman's words sank in. "What?"

Linda Park looked over her shoulder, and gave a huge sigh of what was clearly relief. She looked back at Caitlin with a patently fake smile. "I'd say it was nice meeting you but… I won't want to be sued for perjury." In a quick movement, she was on her feet and out of Jitters.

Caitlin was staring at the door, blinking in confusion, when the sound of someone clearing her throat in front of her, made her turn around –

\- and she bit back a shriek at the sight of Iris West, sitting across from her, her brown eyes glinting.

"Hello Caitlin. I think it's way past time you and I had a proper girl's talk, don't you think?"

Caitlin recovered quickly. "I have nothing to say to-"

"Oh, but I think you do." She had pulled out a recorder, and was fiddling with the controls. Caitlin certainly noticed when she tapped the Red Record button. "Dr. Caitlin Snow, do you object to going on the record with this interview?" When Caitlin said nothing, she continued. "I'll take that as a No…"

"Look here, Ms West-"

"For the record, this interview is not about Barry Allen. It is about your involvement in the development of Velocity-9 for Hunter Zoloman, and how you shared your work with Dr. Eliza Harmon."

Caitlin couldn't stop her face from blanching, but she managed to clamp down on other visible signs of panic. "I never-"

Iris West raised a graceful, scornful brow. "You went to school together. Worked together on a few research projects. It's all public record so if you're going to flat out lie about that…"

"I didn't say I didn't know Eliza. I just said I didn't give her my work on Velocity-9 and you have no way of proving that," Caitlin snapped.

"You think?" Iris West drawled. "That's the funny thing about the truth… it never stays hidden. No matter how long, or how deep you think you've buried it. It always comes out."

Caitlin said nothing.

"So you can tell me what this is all about – the truth, mind – or you can let me find out. Starting from what the heck this has to do with the Flash."

At that, Caitlin's mouth curled scornfully. "Barry hasn't told you, has he?"

For the first time since she had waltzed into Jitters, uncertainty Iris West looked uncertain. "I'm asking the questions here," she retorted.

Caitlin snorted, while inwardly she felt relief course through her. So Barry was not as far gone with his infatuation with this woman as she, Caitlin, feared. "You know you're not the first woman from his past that he's got hung up over."

"I…" Iris's voice trailed off. Those almond-shaped eyes widened, and Caitlin's smile broadened.

"With the kind of life he's been through, can you blame him? He has a closet full of skeletons and every once in a while, he takes out one, plays with it, then buries it." She stared hard at Iris, determined not to miss a single flicker on the other woman's face. "Although, you're one of the oldest – the little Princess who kissed him and made him cry, sent him running into the night, ruined his life."

To Caitlin's delight, tears wavered in Iris's eyes. "That's not what happened," she said, her voice hoarse.

Caitlin sneered. "As far as Barry's concerned… which is the only thing that matters here."

Iris looked away, blinking rapidly. When she turned back, her face was still shaky, but her jaw was set. "Stop trying to derail this interview. What is the ultimate purpose of Velocity X?"

"Don't you want to know about the other women? What happened to them?"

Iris swallowed hard, set her jaw harder. "Who is the speedster whose blood was used to synthesize Velocity X-"

"How he pursued them, wooed them with all that unrelenting single-minded tenacity that makes a man like Barry even more sexy, if such a thing is possible…?"

"Was it donated willingly…?"

"…The women all fall for it, they always do. Even the ones that should know better. They can't help it."

"…or is he a prisoner of some sort…?"

"He's rich, he's gorgeous, he's unattainable. Most times he doesn't even need to try, you know. Most times, he's the one that needs to beat them off with a stick. But every once in a while, someone challenges him. Like you…"

"Dr. Snow, if you keep refusing to answer my questions…"

"Like Patty Spivot."

Iris was mid-speech, her mouth curved in an O and now her jaw clamped shut so tightly that Caitlin swore she heard the bones snapped. There was a long moment where her face was completely open, every emotion clear and for a split-second, Caitlin actually felt sorry for the poor girl.

Almost.

"Guessing Barry didn't tell you about his relationship with her, did he?" Caitlin crowed.

Iris said nothing. She had controlled her face, but she couldn't do anything about her hands that were shaking as she turned off her recorder.

"Why don't you put some of those nifty reporter skills into digging up on _that_?" Caitlin suggested as the other woman hastily gathered her things, and got to her feet.

Iris paused, staring down at her. "Clearly, you're not going to give me anything now but I promise you that this isn't over. I will come after you, Dr. Snow. I hope for your sake that your involvement in this is as misguided as your opinion about my feelings about Barry Allen."

Caitlin scoffed, rising to her own feet. "Doubt that."

Iris West shouldered past her as she walked out of Jitters.

* * *

Iris didn't wear red.

If she had had the time and spare cash, she'd have splurged on something matronly but the most demure thing in her wardrobe was a skin-tight, halter-necked maxi outfit with a thigh-high slit. 

It was sheer coincidence that it happened to be green - the opposite of red. 

She half-expected Barry Allen to complain about the colour, but when she opened the door – he just stared at her, his eyes drinking her in from the top of her hair, rolled into a bun, to the long earrings that framed her face, all the way to the slip of leg peeking through her slit and her low heels.

He wore a tuxedo, with a bow-tie, and it wasn't fair that he looked so lethal in it. So devilishly handsome.

_I survived on my own long before I got super-powers, Princess. What did I say about you being out of your league?_

She was already struggling with her strangled breathing when he raised his gaze to stare at her face.

The look on his face would have turned her into a puddle, made her grab his bow-tie and pull him backwards into her house, investigation be damned…

But Caitlin Snow's cold words still echoed in Iris's brain:

_all that unrelenting single-minded tenacity that makes a man like Barry even more sexy, if such a thing is possible… The women all fall for it, they always do. Even the ones that should know better. They can't help it…_

She lowered her gaze, glad for the steep height difference between them as she discreetly gulped in large breaths. 

"Iris," he said now, his voice deep, low, with something that she might have mistaken for tenderness if she didn't know better.

Raising her chin, she took the hand that he was offering her, and let him lead her to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth the wait. :) Let me know in the comments. :D Oh -and please share your theories. I would love to see if the clues I sprinkle through the tale are bearing fruit. ;)


	7. Dancing with Devils Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 2-parter chapter because Westallen don't do quick-and-easy dates.

“Tracy Brand, thank you for returning my call.”

“You’re welcome… I just don’t know what this is about. You said something about a job as a research assistant?”

“Yes, we looked over your resume, and noticed that you had interned briefly at Mercury Labs, worked under Dr. Harmon, synthesizing the drug Velocity X.”

“It was just a brief job. Less than 3 weeks. I didn’t even think I mentioned it in my resume…”

“Dr. Harmon referred my client to you. She was quite impressed with your work ethic.”

“S-she was? I… didn’t really think she … well, _liked_ me…”

“Would you be interested in an interview?”

“Uh… Sure, I guess… Wow.”

“Great. I’ll text you a date and time.”

She felt his gaze boring into the side of her head as she cut the call, and typed the details for the meeting. She ignored the unspoken question as she put away her phone, and reached instead for the glass of iced water in the slot beside her seat.

The limo had been an unexpected luxury. Also unexpected, was the fact that he sat across from her in the cozy space, and not beside her, crowding into her personal space, breaching her boundaries in more ways that one.

Not that she wanted him to do that.

“Going to tell me what that’s all about?” he queried.

She glanced at him. His eyes were hooded, and the illumination from the passing streetlights kept his face in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression.

“This woman, Tracy Brand, worked briefly on the Velocity X project, during its early days. She’s the only one that I can track down since the entire team seems to have gone missing.” When he said nothing, she narrowed her gaze at him. “You won’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

He scoffed softly, ignored the question. “Have you tried following the money?”

“I was going to call in a favor with a friend of mine…”

“Save it. Cisco Ramon is the best financial bloodhound in the business and he’s looking into it. You can ask him in a few minutes.”

“So he’s going to be at this Gala you’re taking me too?”

That had been another surprise. Iris had been certain that Barry had planned an intimate dinner for the two of them, at a private restaurant, or maybe even his home. Something compatible with seclusion and seduction. Instead, he had informed her that she would be his guest at the Best of Central City Awards Gala that evening. Somehow, some of the members of the City Council had deemed Barry Allen one of Central City’s ‘bests’.

Iris had heard about the Gala in passing. Linda was covering it for the local Sports hero that would be honored; and Eddie had vaguely tried to ask her out to it a while ago but Iris had been too occupied with worry about Wally to even consider it. She had certainly had no idea that Barry was amongst the awardees.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he had scoffed when he told her as Iris tried to lower the eyebrows that had all but flown into her hairline.

“I’m not,” she lied. She glanced at her watch. “Aren’t we late?”

He snickered. “Funny question to ask _me_.”

Iris had rolled her eyes.  

Now he gave her a half-smile. “We’re sharing the Award. Technological innovations for CCPD. Our meta-incarceration tech has been quite the game-changer for City’s security, especially in the light of the Flash’s disappearance.”

Her eyes had flashed at him, angrily and he had smirked. The rest of the trip passed in tense silence.

As they drew nearer the sparking lights of the City Hall, Iris realized that she would have preferred a quiet intimate dinner instead of this public display. With the new information Iris had about Barry’s dealings with Patty Spivot – and why did even the thought of him and her make her blood boil and her stomach feel like lead? – she was on her guard against any and every attempt at seduction. But a public display of her as the latest conquest of the notorious playboy? Their pictures would be all over the papers tomorrow. Her name would be inextricably linked with his own. She’d go from being Press to paparazzi target.  

“Barry,” she started urgently.

His gaze, staring idly through the glass, snapped back at her. His face was sharp, his eyes dark and intense and she started, surprised at his reaction.

“What?” she asked.

He kept staring, his face unreadable in the shadows that had just fallen over his side, then the limo stopped.

“We’re here,” he said quietly and it was too late for her to back out.

* * *

 

The red carpet walk had been as bad as Iris imagined. The cameras had snapped. They had stopped to pose for pictures, Barry’s arm heavy and possessive around her waist, locking her to his side in a way that skirted the boundaries of indecent behavior, and definitely left no doubt as to the nature of their relationship. And if Iris had held any glimmer of hope that she could pass this off as a casual outing together, the increasingly demanding questions thrown by them at the press and Barry’s own purposely mischievous answers – squashed that hope.

Already she could hear the speculative whispers following them into the building. 

“What are you trying to do?” she snapped as they finally walked into the brightly lit Hall.

“Claim you,” Barry said simply, finally putting a little space between them to let the ushers put on the pins and tags.

Iris felt her body heat up from the top of her head to her toes.

“I’m not yours,” she snapped when they passed through the ushers and were once again walking side by side. Guests in expensive tuxes and beautiful dresses milled around the exotically colored ballroom. She spotted the Mayor and her husband in a conversation with the Chief of CCPD and his husband and her own CCPN editor. There was Linda, dressed in a lovely red outfit talking to the Sports hero. Behind Linda was a familiar looking head of reddish-brown hair…

Dread filled Iris and she tried to push out her elbows so that Barry would at least give her a little breathing room, but his hand on her waist just kept going lower down her side, sliding down the length of her hip in a dangerous path. Her fingers tugged at his elbow, digging as hard as she could through the layers of tuxedo and dress shirt, grasped at skin and pinched – hard, and he smothered a yelp, letting her go. She smirked inwardly, and a sudden memory of 9-year-old Barry and Iris wrestling over the gameplayer in the Allens’ den and Iris winning by a move like that.

A wave of nostalgia assailed her and she faltered, drawing them to a stop.

“Are you OK?” he murmured, and she looked up to see the worry on his face. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but it was warm with concern, not hot with possessiveness.

Iris swallowed, somehow more thrown by this than anything else. “I’m fine,” she said quietly. Then she made a face, her anger rising. “As fine as I could be, under the circumstances. You were supposed to tell me the truth about Wally…”

He stepped nearer, his other hand lifting to grip her chin gently. “I will,” he said softly. “I promise. Let’s just get through this and then we can talk, OK?” His fingers drifted from her chin to the curve of her cheek, rested there.

They were warm on her face, and sparks like tiny shocks seemed to fly from his skin to her own. It was hard to keep feeling angry at him when he touched her so tenderly, looked at her with that expression of mingled care and remorse. It was hard to look at him – or at least his eyes. Despite herself, she felt her gaze lowering to his lips. She remembered how they felt – soft, yet firm and his mouth tasting so…

“Barry, you made it!” said a shrill voice, breaking Iris out of her daze.

She actually took a step back, slightly disoriented from the intensity of – whatever it was – that had just happened between her and Barry. She glanced at him, quickly, and was gratified to see that he didn’t look any better. His face was flushed, his eyes still dark and when he turned to the interloper, his movements were jerky and graceless.

They became hard and furious when he recognized who it was.

“Caitlin,” he said coldly. “Don’t sound so surprised. You were the one who insisted that I be here.”

“One never knows with you these days,” Caitlin Snow muttered, her eyes as frosty as the white dress she wore. She gave Iris a look that was just barely civil. Iris returned it with interest.

“Looking good, Allen,” Cisco Ramon said, brushing past Snow to embrace Barry. He was suave and impeccable from his glossy dark hair to his expensive tux, yet he still emoted a demeanor that was as warm and charismatic as Snow was cold and aloof. It was infectious, if the smile that broke across Barry’s face as he returned his friend’s hug was anything to go by.

Iris felt Caitlin’s eyes on her, and she quickly snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed at how she had been gaping.

But she had never seen Barry smile like that. So open, so warm. It startled her.

And made her heart twist. With something like longing and envy that it hadn’t been caused or directed by her.

“And you must be the famous Iris West,” Cisco said, turning to Iris without his grin or warmth dimming, if anything they seemed to increase with a layer of mischief.

“Cisco,” Barry said, his voice a warning.

“Chillax, Bar,” Cisco said, his own voice barely concealing a laugh, as he smoothly looped his arm through Iris’s. Before she realized what was happening, he was walking away with her. “I’m going to steal your chick for a few moments. Try not to go too crazy.”

The last thing Iris saw of Barry was his frustrated face before Cisco whisked her away.

* * *

 

As if on cue, the music started moments after Cisco led her from Barry. Iris had been right – she and Barry were late for the event. They had missed the speeches, and got there in the nick of time for the dancing and the awards that would soon come.

“Perfect timing, if you ask me,” Cisco said as he spun her around. “It’s like Barry’s super power, skipping past the boring stuff. His _other_ super power, I mean.”

Iris said nothing. She was too busy avoiding Barry’s gaze from across the hall where he was dancing with Caitlin Snow. The other woman was talking, her face urgent. If Barry heard anything she said, he gave no indication. His entire attention was trained on Iris, watchful, attentive, making goosepimples break out over Iris’s skin.

“You know Barry acts like an ass half of the time…” he started. Iris scoffed softly. “But underneath all that he’s still the scared little boy that lost his home twice.”

Now Iris looked at Cisco warily. He hadn’t stopped smiling. Hadn’t stopped radiating warmth and friendliness. But there was steel in his gaze as they danced under the sparkling lights.

“What are you saying?” she asked finally.

“Just this,” he said, still smiling, “if you hurt him, I will hurt you.”

Iris gritted her teeth. “You and Caitlin… Why don’t you ask _him_ to back off from _me_?”

Cisco’s eyes narrowed. “Caitlin’s been getting on your case, has she?”

Iris scoffed. “You think?”

Cisco sighed. “Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with all of Barry’s…” His voice trailed off and his eyes zig-zagged frantically as he clearly struggled for the non-offensive alternative of whatever he was about to spout.  

Iris rolled her eyes. She couldn’t care less what either of Barry Allen’s cronies thought of her. “That woman needs a life. Both of you do.”

“Hey!” Cisco retorted, but he was still grinning. “Say anything you like about me but that’s my best friend you’re talking about. And anyway, I’m not Caitlin. I’m not going to come between Barry and what he’s been dreaming about for half his life” – he ignored Iris’s gasp –“and I actually don’t think you’re a femme fatale or whatever it is she imagines you are. Besides” – he shrugged – “Caitlin’s worried about Barry getting hurt but anyone with eyes can see that you have feelings for him, too.”

Iris stopped. Literally stopped dancing in the middle of the floor. Cisco had to tug at her to get her moving again.

“I don’t have feelings for Barry Allen,” Iris hissed.

Cisco scoffed. “Once more, with feeling.”

“ _I don’t!_ ”

“If you didn’t, you won’t care that I think that you do.” He made this somewhat confusing declaration with irritating rationality.

Iris looked away from his Cheshire cat grin, blinking hard against the haze of – nothing – that had coated her eyes. Allergies, no doubt.

Her gaze went to Barry again. Caitlin had finally caught his attention enough for him to look at her, not at Iris. He was listening intently.

Iris felt her heart clench. Despite the fact that in the few times Iris had witnessed their interactions, Barry seemed mostly irritated by Caitlin Snow – perhaps because of this – it was clear that he was fond of her. Why else would Barry put up with her?

Just how close were they? What was she telling him now that had so much of his attention?  

Obviously, women like Iris and Patty Spivot before her, were no more than conquests and vendettas to a man like Barry Allen. But what was a woman like Caitlin Snow to him?

Then she gave herself a mental kick. Why the heck did she care?

“I don’t give a damn about Barry Allen,” Iris muttered, turning to Cisco Ramon. “You can believe me or not, I don’t care. I just want to find my brother. Believe it or not, I’m not eager to be Pat Spivot 2.0.”

Cisco gaped. “Who told you about-” Irritation passed over his face, then smoothened. “Don’t answer that. Look, Iris, Patty Spivot was…”

 _“I. don’t. care._ ” She almost believed it. “Just tell me what I need to know about Wally, and I won’t ever bother your precious Barry again.” She stared at Cisco sharply. “You’re close to him. You’ve always been, as long as you started working for Harrison Wells back in high school.”

Cisco Ramon had been the second of the trio – Allen, Ramon and Snow – to join the Wells’s household/employment. Barry had been adopted in the middle of his teenage years. Cisco had been in his senior year when he started the internship in Star Labs that would become his career. Snow had been the most recent addition – a new medical school graduate when she was employed by Dr. Wells, and later sponsored through her various medical residencies.  

“We’re his best friends,” Cisco confirmed. “Translation: we’re not going to betray him. Even though that would probably make _his_ life a lot easier.”

It was obvious that he wanted her to ask what _that_ meant, but she refused to take the bait, on that or on his obvious need to turn the conversation back to Patty Spivot.

Whatever Barry’s best friend had to say, Iris did not want to hear it. 

“By the way,” he said as the song drew to a close. “It’s a dead-end on the trail of financial bread-crumbs.”

Iris started, her reporter senses going on high alert at the abrupt change of topic.

Cisco nodded meaningfully. “Whoever is paying for that Velocity-X project at Mercury Labs, they’re sending the money through so many shell corps and middle-men and masked gateways and dozens of back accounts…” He tut-tutted again. “They’re good, alright.”

“Barry said you were the best financial bloodhound there was.”

“Rub it in, will you?” He winced. “Let me make it up to you, then. What other leads do you have on this thing? I don’t only follow the money trail, you know.”

“Nothing that I’m not already covering.”

He raised an imperious eyebrow at her. “Do you have any idea the kind of skill-set I have? Obviously not,” he answered before she could speak, “otherwise you won’t be so quick to turn down a favor from me.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

 

Moments before the song ended, Iris deliberately led Cisco in the direction of the bar, as far away from Barry and Caitlin Snow as possible. Bemused, he let her; and that was how she ended up standing with Linda between dances.

“Iris, you look gorgeous,” Linda gushed. “Allen must be going out of his mind.”

Iris gave her friend a dirty askance. “How many glasses have you had exactly?”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Snow, on the other hand, looks ready to claw your _irises_ out – pun intended – and make earrings out of them. Whatever did you do that woman? And please tell me that I’m not on her shit list, too?”

“You’re fine, Linda,” Iris said with a sigh, staring at the dancers. Caitlin had roped Barry for another dance. It was a slow song now and Iris frowned, watching them. It wasn’t that they moved with any particular sensuality. Barry’s arm was around the other woman’s waist and hers were locked around his neck, and Iris bit back the urge to rush over there and yank them apart but – and this was horrifying to admit to herself – that had more to do with Iris being bothered by _anyone_ touching Barry Allen that way than by anything in this particular interaction. If anything, the two looked relaxed, comfortable with each other in an almost sibling-like on the floor. Which was even more striking because - from Iris's piercing stare - she could tell that they were having a low-key quarrel. Yet, even in the middle of their disagreement, Barry and Caitlin were nowhere near the state of constant tension that seemed to ignite anytime Iris and Barry so much as looked at each other.

“You’re not worried about that frigid bitch, are you?” Linda asked.

Iris started, stared at her friend. “What?”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Try to be less obvious, Iris. You were staring at her like if _you_ wanted to make jewelry with her eyeballs. Stop. Look at them. Does he look like he wants to screw her?”

No, he didn’t, Iris thought, and paradoxically, that was what Iris resented the most. Resented the fact that Barry acted around Caitlin Snow like someone he cared about, cared enough to put up with her heckling, and was comfortable with her, trusted her, didn’t resent her, didn’t have half a lifetime of bad blood between him and her.

Iris had spent hours that day reading up on Patty Spivot’s story. A cautionary tale for women like her.

Caitlin Snow wasn't an Iris

_(or a Patty)._

She wasn't a demon from his past that Barry needed to exorcise, and be done with. 

“Iris?” asked Linda, sounding worried. 

 

Iris sighed. “I need a drink.”

* * *

 

“That’s it? Tracy Brand? An ex-assistant that may or may not have worked on Velocity-X?”

Barry bit back an angry retort. Probably because he wasn’t sure if he was going to hurl it at himself or Caitlin. He hadn’t really meant to let the elusive ex-RA’s name slip into the conversation – more like interrogation – he was having with Caitlin. But he had to give her something to get her off his back so he could concentrate on more important things.

Like Eddie Thorne honing in on his date.

“You didn’t find any other lead in those files you took from Mercury Labs?”

Barry had half-expected that Cisco would mention the files to Caitlin, confidentiality request be damned, but he still felt like putting his buddy in a head-lock. When Caitlin started firing him questions, Barry had been ready to make a run for it until she finally got to the point of her concerns about Eliza Harmon and the Velocity-X project. Even then he only half-listened because he was watching Iris cozy up with Linda Park at the bar, as they made a game of fending off admirers.  Matters came to a head when Eddie Thorne – of all people – popped up by Iris’s side like an insuppressible Jack-in-the-box

Cisco would have to wait, Barry decided. First he’d pulverize Thorne. Remind Iris whom she had come to this function with.

It was bad enough that while he was putting up with Caitlin’s neuroses, he had had to watch Iris dance with Cisco in that devastating green dress that Barry knew, he just knew she had worn to annoy him but that plan spectacularly back-fired on her because Iris West could have worn a burlap sack and she’d still look like if she stepped out of Olympus.

Barry had made himself seat across from her in the limo because all that gorgeous bronze skin on display was far too much temptation for his peace of mind.

And that moment just before their ride had ended, when she had said his name…

_“Barry.”_

It never failed to do him in – hearing his name in Iris’s voice. It had been all he did to hold himself back from jumping her there and then.

His blood had still been over-heated as they entered the Hall, and when she had stood looking up at him, looking at his _mouth_ …

His mouth went dry just thinking about it.

“I have gone through all my old emails with Eliza and I haven’t found anything…”

He forced himself to tune Caitlin out, his eyes narrowed on Iris and Eddie. Even from across the room, he could see the wide smile on her face as she looked up at Detective Pretty-boy, a smile that had never been turned in his direction.

Barry was about to Flash-move to reclaim his date, when the bells chimed that signalled the start of the Presentation of Awards.

Like a pixie, an usher appeared by his side to claim Barry to the stage. Cisco had joined up with him and Caitlin then and both men were led to the front.

Caitlin stayed where she was, saluting her boys with genuine happiness. Of course, it helped that she had got her own ‘Best of Central City’ award a few years back for her research on Meta-Stem-Cells.

The actual presentation went over very quickly, although it didn’t seem so to Barry. Cisco gave the appreciation speech, which suited both of them just fine, while Barry just stood by his friend’s side, and tracked Iris with his eyes.

Eddie Thorne seemed to have permanently attached himself by her side. And judging by the way she was still smiling and shining her eyes up at him, she didn’t seem to mind.

Cold fury seemed to creep all the way up Barry’s spine and he barely choked out his own ‘thank you’ at the end of Cisco’s speech.

He hurried through the back of the stage quickly.

“Calm down,” Cisco said, through gritted teeth. As always, he missed nothing. “Do not make a scene, Barry or I swear Caitlin will kill both of us.”

“I am _not_ going to make a scene,” Barry snapped.

“Really?” Cisco reached out and grabbed the back of Barry’s tuxedo, and that was the only thing that made him stop walking. “You’re not going to, I dunno, grab Eddie Thorne again and throw him out of a window, this time?”

“What?”

Caitlin had found them, and her eyes were almost falling out of her head in shock. “Barry!”

“What?” he snapped.

“You assaulted a police officer because of…” She bit back her words at the warning on Cisco’s face.

“I was wearing my costume.”

“That makes it so much better!” she snarled.

Barry yanked himself out of Cisco’s grip. “I’m done arguing with you two.” He held his hands up, warding them off before they started speaking. “I’m not going to make a scene. I’m just going to see to my date.”

He stormed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did y'all think about the season final? Who wants me to write a Savitar/Iris fic where Savitar considers taking up Barry's offer of 'Rehabilitation' but on one condition... ::wink---wink:: And Iris has to seriously consider this 'condition'....


	8. Dancing with Devils Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 2-parter chapter because Westallen don't do quick-and-easy dates.

Cisco found her at the bar, her eyes watching Barry like a hawk.

She was nothing if not predictable. 

“Seriously, Cait?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. She downed her glass and slammed it on the bar with a sharp bang.

“I call you that when I’m mad at you and right now, that’s precisely what I am. You told Iris about Patty Spivot!”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she sneered. “You think I don’t know what you want? I haven’t figured it out?”

Cisco tensed. “What?” he asked flatly. 

“You want them together. You _like_ Iris. For some inane reason, you actually think she’s _good_ for him.” She took another gulp. “I would have thought you’d be the first person to say that she has a right to know.”

“Eventually, yes, when they’re serious and she’s in a position to _let_ him explain that to her. I won’t have used it to spoil Barry’s game.”

Caitlin scoffed. “Game. You think this is just an ordinary fling to him? He’s been obsessed with her his entire life. You’re really looking forward to the spiral he falls into when this little revenge scheme of his goes sideways?”

Cisco said nothing for a while, and she drank more furiously. Her eyes were still peeled on the dance floor and Cisco had no doubt what she was watching that was incensing her further. Caitlin being possessive and intrusive was par the course, but this behavior was bothering on worrisome. 

“It’s not about revenge, Caitlin,” he said gently. “I don’t think it’s ever been about revenge.”

“You and I – we both know that. _Barry_ won't admit it to himself.” Caitlin moaned. “He’s going to get his heart broken and we’re the ones that are going to have to pick up the pieces.”

“He’s not. You’re underestimating Iris West.”

Caitlin snorted. “The poor little rich girl that made a fool out of him? The one that has him so wrapped around her finger that she’s got him risking his life for her brother?”

Cisco groaned. “Not this again.”

“Barry refuses to let us know what’s going on with Wally West! Us! He’s so protective over Iris West’s baby brother that he’s acting paranoid to his best friends!”

“Or maybe he – wisely – thinks that whatever is going on, if we stay out of it, we don’t become weak points for the bad guys to exploit?” 

For the first time since their conversation, she had turned her attention away from Barry to look at Cisco. “What bad guys? Who is he fighting? What is going on?” Her voice was sharp, higher-pitched than usual

Cisco was taken aback. “Something to do with Eliza’s work on Velocity-X?”

“I already know that!” Caitlin snapped. “What else did he tell you?”

Cisco shrugged. “Nothing you don’t already know. I mean… you were the one who gave her the formula for Velocity-9? Caitlin, did you know that she was …?”

“Not this again! I already told Barry. I didn’t give her the formula. I gave her a part of it when I was helping Zoloman.” She shuddered, looking haunted. “When he had us all fooled. I really believed that she didn’t have enough to extract the entire formula. I certainly didn’t think she had enough to develop it.” 

“Well, whatever she did, it’s somehow tied in with Iris West and her brother. When last did you hear from Eliza Harmon?”

Caitlin’s face twitched nervously. “I’ve been trying desperately to get in touch with her. No one’s heard or seen from her in days. Her Research Assistants are missing.”

“And her money trail is cold. Dead ends everywhere.”

“Barry’s holding out hope that the first RA she had, Tracy Brand, would give him some kind of clue. I offered to meet her with him but he turned me down.” She scowled. 

The glass was down again, Cisco noticed, and her fingers were clenching and un-clenching around it worriedly. 

“I’m surprised he even told you that much,” he said carefully. 

Caitlin growled. “He was trying to get me off his back. Otherwise, he won’t have. But he’s going to meet Brand with _her_.” From the poisonous way she spat the pronoun, Cisco wasn’t in the least confused whom Caitlin meant. “She set up some phoney interview and he’s going along. He’s talking to Iris West before us!” 

Cisco burst out with disbelieving laughter. He couldn’t help it. “He knew her way before he ever met us.”

“And look how that turned out. We’re his best friends! Or at least we used to be. First, he became buddy-buddy with Wally and Jessie. Now he’s acting joined to the hip with Iris West.” 

_Get a life, Caitlin_ , Cisco thought with no small irritation. “Let it go.”

“Let it go? Why can’t you be on my side on this, Cisco?” Her voice was rising dangerously close to a wail. 

The bartender gave her a warning glance, but she didn’t notice. Cisco did, as well as the other glances that were turning in their direction. He bent his head low to whisper to her, hoping she’d take his cue and stick to her indoor voice. “When are you going to accept that _you_ don’t have a side on this!”

“Don’t have a…” Her eyes boggled – and no, she hadn’t taken his cue. “I’m… We’re his best friends! We’re his _family_! And we’re losing him.”

“Get a life, Caitlin!”

He didn’t realize he had actually said the words out loud until he saw the wrecked look on her face.

“Caitlin, I… I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” she whispered, grabbing her things, rushing to her feet.

“Caitlin, wait…”

“You’ll see,” she muttered. “You’ll all see…”

“Caitlin…”

He tried to grab her, and she stumbled. Exactly how much had she been drinking? 

And it was bothering close to embarrassing when a high-pitched scream cut across the room, and both of them whirled to watch the disaster that had unfolded under their very noses. 

* * *

“Can I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question. One minute, Iris was gliding across the floor with Eddie, smiling affectionately up at his easy, uncomplicated grin – the next moment, a firm grip was around her waist, and she was turned into a familiar pair of arms. She tipped, off-balanced on her high heels, and had to clutch at cloth-sheathed biceps that felt like bands of whip-cord, firmly wrapped around her.

It had happened so quickly that Iris barely had time to gasp, let alone utter a protest. She swore she could feel the speed-force electricity crackling up his sleeves as he spun her to the other side of the hall.

“Miss me?” 

She blinked up at him. The words were mild, but his face was not, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, his nostrils slight flared.

He was visibly angry and Iris was so surprised that she gaped at him. “What the heck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t share,” he snarled. “You’re here with me. Detective Thawne can bring his own date next time.”

She blinked at him again. “Are you drunk?” He didn’t look it but whatever explanation could there be for his weirder than usual behavior? Iris knew that as a speedster, he shouldn’t have been able to but who knows what Dr. Snow cooked up for her pet speedster. 

And the moment, the thought of the woman crossed her mind, Iris felt her own temper snap. “That’s rich coming from you! I’m not the one who went off to have three dances with my oh-so-very dear friend.”

The tension in his face eased a little, as confusion steeped in. “You went dancing with Cisco, not me?”

“I meant Caitlin Snow!” she snapped – then almost bit her tongue.

Barry didn’t notice her slip-up, instead he stared at her, his puzzlement deepening. “What?”

Her face was flushing with embarrassment. Her whole body, indeed. And not just from her words. His nearness, his proximity to her… She felt like if arcs sparked every-time she clenched her fingers over his arms. She wanted to pull away – as far away as he would let her with her whole body pressed tightly against his from chest to knees – but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. Her heart was pounding, her chest heaving and with each shallow inhale/exhale, her bosom robbed against his hard chest painfully. Sweet, agonizing, torture.

Her eyes had drifted, and zoomed in on his mouth. It was slightly parted, the question still hovering between them. But even as she watched, she could see his sharp intake, the way it softened under her gaze. She flicked her eyes up to his own, and saw that through the half-closed lids that his pupils were blown. He was basically devouring her mouth with his eyes. 

“Iris,” he said hoarsely. 

He had no business calling her name like that, Iris thought half-hysterically. Not unless he was ready to kiss her and more right here in …

…public.

With a start like if she had been shocked with cold water, she came out of the haze that had fallen on her in this man’s arms. Her head swiveled as she got her bearings back. 

They were in _public_. At the Award ceremony. Dancing. Barry Allen had just snatched her – literally snatched her away from Eddie.

She froze. 

Eddie who was … now bearing down on them, his face grim.

“Oh no,” Iris muttered and Barry, whose heavy gaze was still on her mouth didn’t look up.

So when Eddie swung him around, the fastest man alive couldn’t duck the punch that hit him square across the jaw.

* * *

The sucker-punch sent him to the ground in a daze. He saw stars, and barely felt the small hands gripping him, trying to break his fall. Around him were the sounds of screams, running feet. Had it been so long, he thought hazily, since he’d been blind-sided that he had forgotten how to take a punch. 

“Barry! Are you OK? _Eddie, what are you doing!?_ ”

Iris’s voice, screaming in worry, pierced the haze sharply. 

He blinked to stare at another hard swing inches away from his nose, and he ducked. 

He didn’t use his speed. He didn’t need it. Long before he had been struck by lightning, in between foster homes from hell, he had lived on the streets and he had learnt quickly that quick or dead wasn’t just for the Old West. 

Eddie over-balanced, falling with his swing, and Barry was on his feet, using the other man’s punching arm as a lever, and yanking him down to the ground. It was the Detective’s turn to stare up, dazed.

“Eddie!” 

It was also his turn, apparently, to have Iris calling after him in concern. Barry scowled at her and he put a polished boot firmly on the man’s chest. The detective tried to shove it off, and Barry pushed his weight down. The man choked. 

“Barry, stop!” Iris demanded, looking outraged. “You’re hurting him!”

“He attacked me,” Barry snapped. He was vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered around them but all his focus was on the woman in front of him. Even the detective wheezing under his boot was barely an afterthought. 

Iris shook her head slightly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and grabbed his arm, apparently trying to physically shove him off Eddie. “Barry! Let him go!”

Barry didn’t budge – he might as well have been shoved by a cat – and merely looked down at her, half-bemused, half-irritated. Why the heck did she care so much for the detective, anyway?

He yowled then, stumbling – and stared down to where her fingers had curled into his skin. Apparently realizing that brute force was futile, she had resorted to stabbing him with her razor-filed nails. They were effective. 

She gave a quick glare, as she rushed down to Eddie. “Eddie… Eddie… are you all right? Someone call an ambulance!”

“Oh come on!” Barry snapped.

“What did you do?” asked a despairing voice over his shoulder. 

Barry turned to look into Cisco’s uncharacteristically worried face. 

“He attacked me first!” 

“He’s a cop, Barry,” Cisco snapped. “This doesn’t look good.”

“I’m a doctor!” Both men turned to watch Caitlin falling to her knees beside Iris. They shared identically worried glances over the detective’s still body – and for the first time, Barry noticed that Eddie Thawne was silent, his eyes closed – and at one, they both worked quickly to take off his jacket and shirt. 

Barry also noticed that while Caitlin’s hands were brisk and professional, Iris’s hands were shaky. Her whole body was shaking, as a matter of fact.

A heavy mass started forming in Barry’s chest. 

Cisco drew in a sharp breath, a half-second as the crowd seemed to gasp as one, and Barry’s tore his eyes from Iris to stare at what had got their attention. 

A dark bruise – almost purple – was spreading under the Detective’s skin. 

That heavy mass seemed to sprout spikes.

“Go,” Cisco hissed. “Caitlin and I’ll sort this out but you don’t want to be here when his buddies come over.”

Barry’s eyes immediately went to Iris, who was now cradling Eddie’s head in her lap as Caitlin ministered over the man. “Is he breathing?” Iris cried, her voice half a sob.

Caitlin muttered something, but Barry didn’t hear her. His whole attention was on Iris. He was willing her to look at him.

“Barry, you need to go.” 

_Look at me, dammit!_

As if she heard his thoughts, she raised her head then. The expression in her dark almond-shaped eyes was indecipherable. Barry needed to know what it meant. He needed to know that she didn’t hate him. He needed to know---

“Run, Barry!” Cisco all but shouted. “Run!”

With one last long stare at Iris, he turned on his heel and vanished.

* * *

_“Hello? Am I speaking to Tracy Brand?”_

_“Yes? It’s me!”_

_“We spoke earlier today.”_

_“Yes! No! Oh no, don’t tell me you’re cancelling the interview! Eliza Harmon pulled my reference, didn’t she? I knew she didn’t like me! Please, I really need the work. If you’ll just give me a ch-”_

_“Your interview hasn’t been cancelled Ms. Brand. I called to reschedule it.”_

_“Oh, thank goodness!”_

_“Do you have pen and paper?”_

* * *

Iris had waited with Eddie for the ambulance to come, and watched Caitlin Snow get in with the paramedics. Linda had taken her to the hospital where Iris had stayed until she got word from Caitlin that Eddie was stabilized.

Caitlin Snow was still in her scrubs when she told Iris that Eddie only had a cracked rib, he was sedated so Iris couldn’t see him, but he would be awake in a few hours and on his feet in a few days. 

“J-just a cracked rib?” Iris echoed, incredulously.

Caitlin sighed, but for once the woman didn’t come across as antagonistic, just exhausted. “You and I both know that it could have been worse.” She looked around her, made sure that the other doctors, the small knot of police officers who had come to check in on Eddie, and Linda were out of earshot, then leaned in closer to Iris. “Barry could have drilled a hole with his boot right through Detective Thawne if he had wanted to. That it was just a cracked rib is something to be thankful for.”

Iris shuddered. _If he had wanted to…_

“I can’t believe that he… that he…” She shook her head, still slightly reeling from the events of the past few hours. Her gaze fell on the cops and she shuddered. “Is Barry going to be in trouble?” While waiting for Eddie, she had instinctively started looking for her phone to call him – then changed her mind. She had no idea what she was going to say. She was furious with him, obviously. 

But that last look he had given her before he vanished – his face taut with… _torment_ … it had twisted something inside Iris.

Still twisted something inside Iris.

Now that she knew that Eddie was fine, the urge to go to Barry and – she didn’t know – yell at him, make sure he was OK – gnawed at Iris. 

“Cisco said he’d handle it. He’s had run-ins with the law before but never against a cop.” 

“I can help,” Iris said quickly. “My Dad was a cop. I still have lots of friends at the station. If I tell the Captain that Eddie provoked Barry-”

“-into fighting over you?”

Iris recoiled. “This is not my fault. It’s not my job to police their behavior.”

“It kind of is,” Caitlin retorted, her eyes flashing. Apparently the momentary truce they had silently agreed on when they both struggled to save Eddie – 

_(and Barry from the consequences of his actions,_ thought a traitorous part of Iris’s brain but she squashed it quickly) – 

\- had passed, and the doctor’s claws were out again. 

“You want to be in Barry’s life? Then you better get used to things like this happening anytime you flaunt your harem in front of him.”

“My…” Hysterical laugh bubbled in Iris’s lungs, threatening to escape and she clamped it down. “Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?”

“Don’t call me crazy,” Caitlin snapped. 

“If the shoe fits,” Iris retorted.

Two angry blotches spotted the other woman’s cheeks. They were purplish, like bruises, or frostbite, not red like a blush. 

“Caitlin!”

Both women spun to see Cisco rushing quickly towards them, a look of panic on his face. “Ladies,” he said, hastily, coming to stand by Caitlin’s side and take her arm.

To Iris’s surprise, Caitlin seemed to diminish, something like shame masking her face. “Excuse me,” she muttered, and left. 

Cisco gave Iris a quick, strained smile, then went after the doctor.

Iris blinked. What the heck just happened?

* * *

By the time Linda was pulling the car out of the hospital lot, Iris would have gladly dozed in the passenger seat.

It had been another hour before she left the hospital. She had asked Linda to leave, intending to call a cab, but her friend had insisted on staying. She had spoken to Captain Singh in person, giving him her first hand eye-witness account of what had happened, making it clear that Eddie had been the one to attack Barry, completely unprovoked to all appearances. 

Although by Singh’s knowing glance at her, Iris had a feeling that he probably shared Caitlin’s theory on why the fight between the two men had happened.

She let out a heavy sigh of irritation.

“Come on, Iris,” Linda said with a laugh. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was a scene,” Iris groaned, going through her bag. “I’m supposed to be reporting the news, not making it.”

“I don’t know… two hot guys duking it over me? I don’t mind being in the limelight for that.”

“It wasn’t over-” At Linda’s disbelieving face, Iris shook her head. “Oh, forget it.”

Her friend threw her a concerned look. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

“Eddie?” Iris hedged.

Linda scoffed. “That’s not whom I’m talking about and you know it.”

“No, I don’t,” Iris said frantically as she turned out the contents of her bag on her lap.

“What are you looking for?” Linda wondered, finally catching on.

“I think I’ve lost my phone.” 

“Did you leave it at the hospital? I can turn right back.”

“No.” Iris said quietly. Could this day get any worse? “I was looking for it then to call…” She bit back the name. “It was probably earlier, at the party. My purse fell down when Eddie…” She groaned. “Perfect!”

“We’ll go back there and check.”

“Forget it. I’ll go over tomorrow before work.” 

“It’s really no big-”

“You’ve already done more than enough, Linda. Come on, let’s just call it a day.” She cracked a smile. “If we’re late tomorrow, Scott will fry our asses.” 

Linda brayed with laughter.

Iris joined her, laughing maybe a little harder than the joke merited. And if there was a tinge of hysteria in her giggles, as she fought desperately with her brain to keep her mind off a certain scarlet speedster, and the demons he seemed to carry - who cared? 

After Linda drove off, Iris entered her house tentatively. She half-expected to find Barry waiting for her, but the flat was silent.

Pretending not to feel disappointed, she went through the motions of getting ready for sleep. She was bone-weary – and heart-weary, and was fighting the urge to just fall on her bed, fully-clothed; but without her mobile phone, she was relying on a wake up call from Linda on the land-line. So she needed to settle down properly because won’t have time for anything but a quick morning routine. 

When Iris finally slid into bed - _(alone and heart-weary)_ \- something was niggling at the back of her head. Something important about her phone. But by then, the day’s exhaustion had finally caught up with her and before she could pin-point her worry, sleep overcame her. 

* * *

Even with Linda’s wake-up call, Iris still found herself running out of her house, scrambling with her purse and keys. She was mentally calculating how much time she’d have to get to the Hall and back – and coming up short and panicky – and almost fell over the long-legged man sitting on her steps.

Then she saw him and her heart started pounding.

“Good morning, Iris,” Barry Allen said from behind his thick sunglasses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay! Thank you for all the commends and feedback. I really appreciated them and they helped me fight a humongous writer's block. I hope this was worth the wait.


	9. An Appointment with Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who left such delightful feedback and encouragement for me to continue/finish this story. Fingers crossed it's done by summer's end. :)

Iris gaped. Barry Allen was sitting at her porch steps, grinning up at her like if he had no care in the world.  

“What are you doing here?” she cried. “I’m betting half of half of CCPD is right now, combing the streets, looking for you.”

Barry laughed. “Isn’t spreading misinformation a big no-no in your profession?”

“What-”

“I’ve squared with Singh. Let him know it was all a little misunderstanding got out of hand. We’re cool.”

Iris almost reeled, relief washing through her.

“Also checked on Eddie at the hospital this morning.  He’s still a little” – Barry raised his hand, and turned it slowly in the ‘wishy-washy’ gesture – “about the whole business. But in time, I expect his bosses will make him see reason and we can get back to hating each other civilly.”

“You bribed CCPD?” Iris managed.

Behind the dark shades, she could make out his eyes widening dramatically. “How appallingly libelous of you, Ms. West.” He pressed one palm against his heart. “I am beyond scandalized that you would insinuate the professional comradeship between Star Labs and Central City’s finest as more or less than beneficial to the wellbeing of this city.”

Against her will, a giggle bubbled through Iris’s throat and she turned it into a scoff. “Spare me the mock-innocence, Barry.”

There was a half-second of him freezing – his teasing mood seeming to pause – then he relaxed, chuckling softly.

In one sudden movement, he had whipped off his glasses and he was on his feet, his green eyes intent as he towered above her even from the steps below. She was standing in his shadow, but the heat emanating from his body, mere inches for her, more than made up for it. She felt an answering warmth start pooling in her belly and it was her turn to freeze.  

“We never finished our date last night,” he said softly, his voice low and promising.

“N-no,” Iris breathed, taking an instinctive step back even though besides getting up, he hadn’t moved. “We didn’t.”

He noticed, and he smirked, making her skin prickle with anticipation.

Until anger snapped into place. “No, we didn’t,” she said more strongly. “And whose fault was that?”

He pretended to think, furrowing his brows exaggeratedly and she tried not to be distracted by how cute he looked when he did that. “Eddie Thawne?”

“You put him in the hospital and you’re blaming him!” Iris asked, outraged. A thought occurred to her and she gasped. “Oh my god, Eddie. You said you saw him at the hospital? He’s awake? He’s OK?” If she had her phone, she’d have called the hospital already only--- Shock and guilt filled her. She won’t have. All this while, her bigger concern had been on Barry.

The furrowed brows that appeared with Barry’s scowl were not pretend. “He’ll live,” he gritted.

Iris gaped up at him. Then she shoved him. Hard.

“Hey!”

“How can you be… don’t you feel a little sorry for what you did?”

“What _I_ did? _He_ punched me!”

“So in turn, you tried to kill him?!”

“I’m a speedster, Iris. If I wanted to kill him, he’d already be dead! I promise you that it’s not because the thought didn’t cross my mind.”

“You… you…” She couldn’t find the words. _How could he say something like that… What kind of person… Why was he like this?_

“What happened to you, Barry?” she said at last, the words pushing past the sudden lump in her throat with difficulty.

He scoffed and turned his face into profile. She saw a muscle tick in his jaw.

“I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry about Patty’s party,” Iris half-yelled out the words both to push back against his attempt to silence her, and to force them out a throat that was closing with tears. “I’m sorry about what I did, and everything that happened after that.”

He said nothing.

“And in case you’ve forgotten,” Iris choked, “I lost my father, too. Thanks to what I did, my father died.”  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “So get over yourself.”

His gaze snapped back at her so suddenly that she might have flinched if she wasn’t already past that. She couldn’t read what was on his face – pity, spite, anger – maybe it was a mix of all three.

For once, she didn’t care.

She pushed past him and walked to her car. She half-expected him to stop her, but he didn’t.

When she pulled into the street, she checked her rear mirror and he was gone.

* * *

 

 _Screw him_.

That little encounter this morning had pushed her back even further than she had started out with. By the time, she got into the highway, there was no chance of getting to the Hall before going to CCPN. She would have to call them from work. How she was going to work without a phone to reach her sources – well, Iris would have to figure that out somehow. Despite this, she pulled into the CCPN parking lot, minutes after work started – and still took some minutes more to re-assemble her face into some form of composure. Crying and driving tended to dishevel a girl.

_Screw him._

As she and Linda predicted, Scott chewed her ear out for being late. Linda and Mason threw her commiserating looks but knew better than to say anything. An even more subdued Iris went to her desk and tried to get some work done. Linda popped over to give abridged moral support before she ran off to chase a sports scandal informant. Iris watched her friend go, something tingling at her – then shook it off, and tried to get some work done.

She called the Hall first chance she got, hoping for at least one good news this morning only to be told that nothing resembled her phone was in their Lost and Found. Iris groaned inwardly as she hung up.

_Screw Barry Allen to hell and back._

_Unless literally,_ a traitorous voice added and Iris spilled the coffee that Mason had just handed over to her.

“You OK, West?” Mason asked.

“Just peachy,” Iris muttered, as she dabbed at the mess.

“Huh,” he said disbelievingly. “Anyway, you got a call this morning. I was passing around your desk at the time, and took the message.”

Iris scoffed. Sounded more like Mason was busy-bodying through her stories, but she didn’t mind. They were reporters after all. Being nosey came with the territory.

“So who was it?”

“Dr Snow. Star Labs, I believe.”

Iris put her mug down quickly before she did some serious damage. “What was the message?”

Mason shrugged. “Just asked for a call back.”

He wandered back to his desk, as Iris mulled over that. It couldn’t have been about Eddie because he was OK. (And once again, guilt smote at her at how she hadn’t even called the hospital to ask after him, and her general lack of interest in his welfare). Which left only 2 possibilities – Caitlin wanted to warn Iris off Barry yet again (she shouldn’t have bothered, Iris thought furiously) or she had information about Eliza Harmon.

Iris sat up at her desk with a shock. Eliza Harmon. Tracy Brand. The bogus appointment she had set up with the research assistant. She had completely forgotten about it until now. She glanced at the clock – if she left CCPN now, she’d get to Jitters at least half an hour late. She would need to call Tracy Brand and tell her to wait regardless. Iris started reaching for her phone ---- then remembered.

This time she groaned out loud.

“Iris?” Mason from across the aisle. “You OK?”

“Not really,” Iris said as she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her things hastily. She couldn’t call Tracy Brand from the newspaper or risk exposing herself before she was ready. She’d just have to hope that the coffee at Jitters was good enough to keep Brand there until Iris arrived.

“Need some extra eyes and ears on this one?” Mason asked, looking hopeful.

For the first time that morning, Iris laughed. “Nice try.”

* * *

 

Her car door was half-way open when Barry Allen was standing beside her, little streaks of Speedforce static sliding off his edges. His hair was wind swept, falling all over his face and he smelt of ozone.

Iris gaped, her heart racing and not entirely because of shock.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she managed and tried to get into the car but his body was in the way. “I swear, Barry if you don’t-”

“I remembered the appointment,” he said, gasping – (and how fast did a speedster need to run to get out of breath and why the heck did that make her feel light-headed). “You won’t make it if you drive.”

“You think the offer for you to come along is still on the table?”

He smirked and that was just not fair. It was practically Pavlovian the way, her body seemed to _melt_ whenever he did that. “I think you’re running late and you need my help.”

Iris took a deep breath, then sighed angrily, slamming the door shut.

“Hey!” he yelped. If he hadn’t been a speedster, the edge of the door might have skinned him.

He deserved worse.

“So are we going there or not?”

Barry grinned, his face morphing into an expression of pure delight. Then he swung her into his arms. Her arms went around his neck instinctively, and now their faces were so close that she could count all the micro-freckles on his face, see the tiny flecks of grey in his green eyes, and taste the mint in his breath. Everywhere her body touched him seemed to be scorching.

By the rapid movement in his throat, he wasn’t any less affected. His arms tightened impossibly, and his gaze travelled a shuddering path from her eyes to her parted lips.

“Iris,” he whispered, his mouth tantalizing inches from her.

“We…” she whimpered, helpless as his lips drew nearer, “we… should get going, Barry…”

He halted. Her breath stuck in her throat as she felt his hard body locking into tension as if he was exerting superb self-control on himself. Then he bit his lip and leaned back, and with a half-sob, Iris buried her face into his neck because it was either do that or chase his mouth and kiss him until the crazy passed.

Which apparently, would be never.

His hand shifted on her back, coming up slowly to cradle the back of her head against him. “Hold on tight,” Barry whispered, his voice echoing through her body. Beneath that was the sound of his hammering heart, in rhythm with her own rapid breathing.

She was shuddering so much already that she barely felt them Flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is half of chapter 9. The other half is almost done, I just need to do some plot-checking a little more on this because it's been so long since my head-space has been in this story (you guys that have stuck by this long are the best! thank you!).


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